And to Immolation
by Koi Carp
Summary: Against his will, Kyle is sent to a boarding school, but there he finds two nostalgic faces. He joins Christophe and Gregory's secret "club", not knowing that that is where all his troubles begin.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N- Hello, and thank you for picking this up.  
**

**This is a prequel to VoI, which is actually just cutting out all the flashback chapters of VoI, adding a bit, and putting it as a different story. If you're still interested, I couldn't be happier. **

**Hope you enjoy~ O y va!**

* * *

Chapter One: 2.5  


Kyle felt betrayed. He dreaded for this day to come and spent everyday thinking of a way to get out of it, to change the course of his fate, but no, it came, it was inevitable. Kyle was leaving South Park. He cursed his conservative mother who believed that education could not be taken far in a Podunk town like South Park. He damned his unsupportive father who didn't have the courage to disagree with her, in the end agreeing that maybe she was right: maybe boarding school would help Kyle's success.

But no matter what his parents told him, he wouldn't listen. Boarding schools were for upper-class jack-offs who cared about appearances more than what the child wanted, and what Kyle wanted was to stay with his friends in South Park. The boarding school was not a while away from the city, yet it was a good three-hour ride from South Park. Kyle knew he wouldn't be visiting home every weekend; he hated long trips, which made him hate the school even more. The fact that the school had a good reputation was another hate-factor for Kyle; it was why his parents made him enter the damn school in the first place.

Kyle was the first to arrive at the newly-assigned bedroom and so took the opportunity to choose the first bed, right in the corner beside the window. Looking at the other three empty beds made Kyle sigh, imagining how he would have to share the room with three _other_ people, (hoping they're not complete douchebags). Already exhausted in the new environment, Kyle spread himself nice and long across the bed, moaning slightly, making himself ready for a nice, long sleep.

'Hey, move it shrimpy.'

Kyle lifted his heavy eyelids to find a small, greasy face glaring down at him, their noses only a few inches apart.

'What? Why?'

'That's Derek's bed.'

'Who?'

The greasy kid leaned up away from Kyle's face to let the redhead find another child, taller and fierce looking, also staring down at him. Fuck.

'Fuck off shrimpy!'

'Dude!' Kyle groaned, leaning up from his mattress. 'I chose this bed first! I made it! Can't you just choose another one? They're all the same!'

'Then move it if they're all the same!'

'No! I fucking made this bed!'

The two kids above him gritted their teeth, faces glowing with rage at Kyle's defiance. Kyle could almost hear the larger one, Derek's, teeth chip in his mouth before the child grasped at Kyle's bony ankle with an unmerciful grip, dark eyes burning into Kyle's emerald ones.

'Move! Or I'll fling you off so hard I'll break your ankle!'

'No!' Kyle yelled with the stubbornness of a child and grasped at the headboard of his bed. Derek tugged angrily at Kyle's ankle, but the shrimp would not budge. A small breath of relief escaped Kyle as he felt the grip release his ankle, but he chocked on his inhaling as the large body jumped onto his back, trapping the redhead under his weight.

'Do as I say, Shrimp!'

Kyle gasped in pain as fierce fingers pulled his hair back by his curls, threatening to pull the scarlet locks out of his scalp. But still he did not budge, adding fuel to the anger of the larger boy on him.

'What are you doing?' A heavy voice instantly froze all the burning anger in the room. 'Are you raping '_im_?'

Derek flung himself off of Kyle, burning anger returning to his eyes as he glared at the intruder, leaving Kyle rubbing his head and coughing from the freedom to breathe.

'We are not raping him!'

'_Zen_ what are you doing?'

Kyle could hear Derek's teeth clench from his bed.

'He stole his bed!' The greasy boy answered instead.

'No I didn't! I got it first! I made this bed!'

The smaller boy with the strange accent dropped his bag onto the unmade bed right beside him, closest to the door.

'Just pick any fucking bed and stop _bee_tching like a pussy.' He didn't even look up as he talked, going straight into making his own bed, infuriating the two other boys without the slightest show of care. Finally, his fierce glare not working on the intruder, Derek huffed and moved to the last empty bed, dropping his belongings on it just as the newcomer did. 'Fils de pute,' the smaller boy spat quietly to himself.

Kyle released the muscles in his body and relaxed deep into his mattress, sighing contently. But just as relief sank him deep in relaxation he flung his eyes open in realisation and jumped off the bed he oh-so desperately protected. Emerald eyes glowing, he hopped over to the boy with the strange accent making his bed.

'Thanks,' Kyle smiled widely to the stoic-looking child working away.

'It was not for you, he was a swine.'

A soft chuckle flowed out of Kyle; somehow the strange boy made the redhead feel at home, a sense of nostalgia tickling him.

'I'm Kyle,' he said, smiling at the boy who was not looking his way.

'Christophe,' the boy answered. And it was that answer, that one name, that snapped a chord in Kyle's head. Eyes widening, Kyle leaned over and looked deep into the boy's face: olive skin, fierce hazel-green eyes, short crooked eyebrows…

'Mole?' the soft murmur made the boy freeze, and hazel-greens travelled to meet Kyle's wide eyes.

'Oui?'

A sudden mesmerising twinkle shone in Kyle's orbs.

'Mole! It's me! Kyle! Kyle Broflovski!' The boy's chapped lips slightly parted; Kyle imagined an invisible cigarette falling out form between the French boy's lips and grinned.

'I remember you…' A small gentle smile appeared on Christophe's stoic lips. 'Three years.'

'Yeah, I know! Didn't think I'd meet you here!' Kyle couldn't hide his excitement. He was so glad to have found someone he knew in this foreign environment. 'Now at least I have one person I know!'

'Two,' Christophe corrected, making Kyle's smile tense in confusion. 'Gregory is here too.'

'Really? That English guy?' Kyle chuckled in disbelief, 'Well, what do you know…'

Kyle recognised Gregory in an instant the next day. His light beige blond hair was combed back perfectly, making his silver-blue eyes shine in the centre of his face. He greeted Kyle with his civil smile that always rested on his lips, yet the casualty of it made Kyle think of it as almost cold and emotionless. And just as Kyle instantly recognised Gregory, the other immediately recognised the redhead too.

'Such a pleasant surprise,' he grinned, taking Kyle's hand in his own. 'Yes, so, so pleasant…' He kept on shaking Kyle's questioning hand, almost frantically, until he noticed hazel-greens glaring into him. Kyle relaxed slightly as Gregory finally released his hand.

'Oh, honestly Mole, you need a cigarette.'

'You're telling me?'

Gregory chuckled and threw a cigarette packet at the irritated French boy.

'Treasure it. It's meant to last a week.'

'Ouais, ouais…' Christophe mattered, taking a stick out and shoving it into his mouth without lighting it.

But unlike Christophe's casualty, Kyle looked at the packet in shock.

'How— how did you—'

'Sneak in the cigarettes? I didn't. I got them once I got here.' Kyle frowned in confusion, making the blond laugh. 'Do you really want to know?'

'Gregory…'

'What?' Gregory smirked at the disapproving brunet. 'I think we should tell him. I think he has great potential.'

Silver-blue eyes scanned through the redhead from head to toe intently, finishing with a wide smile on emerald eyes.

'Um, sorry, but what the fuck are you talking about?' Kyle asked, uncomfortable under the two pair of eyes digging into his thin frame. His body jolted suddenly, as the English boy took two quick steps up to him, bringing their faces barely an inch apart.

'Have you been planning on joining a club?'

'What? No.' Kyle spat at the unexpected question. 'All the clubs here are gay. They don't even have basketball! …Why?'

'Mm-hmm… I heard you were pretty smart.'

'Well, I got into his stupid school without even trying to pass the test, but—'

'And Wendy told me that you were a natural hacker.'

'Yeah, sure I can— wait, what?'

Gregory grinned widely, leaning out of Kyle's face to free the redhead of his shadow.

'How would you like to join our club?'

'Club?' Kyle blinked. 'Your… club— What club?'

'It doesn't have a name yet, but it is a secret club with only me and Mole. And now, maybe you.'

'Wait, that suggestion came out of asking me about my intelligence and hacking skills. Where the fuck is this going?'

'Nowhere, unless you want to join.' The blond's grin grew a little more. 'So, what's it going to be?'

Frowning, red eyebrows tensed and innocent pink lips pursed together troublingly, Kyle made the decision light-heartedly, oblivious that his answer was going to change his life forever.

Sometimes, the thought, the wonder, would manage itself into Kyle's mind: what would his life have been like if he had never entered that secret club? It was difficult to imagine a different scenario in his life, besides, it was a complete waste of time. The redhead would never spend a long time thinking and daydreaming, but when he asked himself that question there was one answer that Kyle knew was right as a fact: that he would have stayed human.

So does he regret it?

When Kyle and Christophe returned back to their dormitory they were welcomed back by silence and darkness. They were alone, and somehow, the subtle sound of the rain outside made Kyle hesitate to turn the lights on, or maybe it was the fierce sound of the darkness from the boy behind him. Kyle's small fingers brushed against the plastic of the light switch, wondering whether or not he should turn it on and light the room or stay in the comfortable silence. But just before Kyle could tense the tip of his finger to light the room, a cold hand shot to his wrist, flinging Kyle into the bed behind him.

A sharp breath of surprise pumped into Kyle's lungs, and he only then noticed the small boy trapping him down against the mattress underneath him. Their faces were so close together, but through the darkness and the shadow created by the brunet's fringe Kyle could not see Christophe's expression. He could only feel that the hand he thought was so cold and hard was now burning clasped around his wrists. He could hear his heart pounding in his ribcage.

'You should not '_ave_ done _zat_.' The French boy whispered darkly.

'What- was I- not- meant to do?' Kyle managed through quickening breaths. Christophe was smaller than him, but his burning hands were fierce and large trapping Kyle underneath him in his grip. They were so much stronger…

'You should not 'ave listened to Gregory. You should not 'ave joined us!'

'Mole,' Kyle flinched at Christophe's raised voice, 'It's just a fucking club, dude…'

The brunet gritted his teeth, the muscles in his face moving to reveal his eyes from behind his fringe. They were also tensed, like his hands, narrowed and burning.

'You're weak.'

'Oh, gee, thanks,' Kyle spat sarcastically. But without receiving a reply he slowly relaxed into the mattress.

'I didn't know you hated me that much…' Kyle chuckled, desperate to distract himself from the present state he was in, trapped under an enraged (twelve year-old) mercenary. And granted, the brunet's burning eyes softened slightly at Kyle's words.

'I don't _'ate_ you, Kyle,' Christophe whispered, releasing one of Kyle's wrists to rest the palm on the redhead's tensed cheek, making him freeze at the uncomfortable intimacy. 'I like you. Zat is why I do not want you joining us.'

'Dude… It's just one stupid club.'

Christophe chuckled, 'With me and Gregory? Yes, one very stupid club.'

Kyle nodded as if in agreement, perking his lips nervously.

'Um, can you get off of me now?'

The brunet looked down curiously, then as if just noticing their situation, slowly slid off from the tensed redhead.

'Sorry,' he mumbled, taking Kyle up with him by the hand.

'No it's fine, I guess? It's just that—' Kyle sighed, still slightly tensed as he tried to look into Christophe, yet failing in the darkness, 'What's wrong if the club has you and Gregory?'

There was a heavy chuckle in reply.

'We have been acquainted for five years.' But then his smile dropped. 'You don't know '_im_ like I do.'

'Yeah? And how do you know him then?'

A small rustling entered his ears, and now with his eyes, Kyle could see Christophe, his childish eyes staring into the darkness without a focus, placing a cigarette he received from Gregory in between his lips. He slowly inhaled in the smell of the tobacco, his breath and the rain the only sound in the room. The sight, the sound, somehow, made Kyle speechless.

'I _don't_ know him,' Christophe answered. '_That_ is what I know.'

.

It had been a while since Kyle entered the club and he was approaching the end of his junior years. But he was still confused about one thing; why did Christophe disapprove of him entering the club so much in their first year? So far there had been nothing dangerous, although maybe a little bit risky. In their first year Gregory had somehow secured a secret room for the club and a few old computers (as freshmen were not allowed any). The only thing Kyle did was connect the computers (secretly) to the internet and unlock all websites for free access (stupid child lock).

But frankly, the club was boring. It felt like they never did anything and Kyle either surfed the internet or read books as Gregory stayed silent at his desk and Christophe being somewhere doing something. The only remotely exciting thing they did was rearranging the dormitory in their second year (and every year after that) so that Kyle, Christophe and Gregory had a bedroom to themselves. Other than that, there were the short episodes such as anonymously busting the married nurse's affair with the janitor, and then a senior for smuggling in and selling weed at the back of the gym.

Kyle began to think of the club as a secret detective's club or something, yet with only a few limited assignments the club was pure boredom, although it didn't make much of a difference since Kyle was not planning on joining any other club in the first place.

Yet nothing lasts, not even boredom.

Kyle's fingers froze on the keyboard, he blinked once, narrowed his eyes carefully, then released the tension in his body, making the sleeping Christophe stir beside him on the broken couch.

'Gregory, there aren't any security cameras in this school are there?'

'There's one on the main entrance and back exit, but other than that? No.' Gregory answered without looking up from his desktop screen. 'Why?'

Kyle grinned at himself. 'Because I just found some unknown, unregistered, secret, activity…' The fun drama in his voice finally made Gregory look up from his computer.

'What is it?'

'I think it's a wifi video camera. So either the school put in some new cheap security cameras around the school, which I doubt with all my heart, or, _someone is being naughty_—' the redhead sang. 'Wait, I'll hack into it.'

Gregory's eyes widened with amusement at Kyle's words and the casualty of them, but kept quiet and let the redhead do his work. Kyle's frantic typing finally woke up Christophe, who yawned and stretched beside his working friend, immediately noticing the boy's concentration.

'Dude…' Gregory smiled at Kyle's astonished voice and walked over, leaning over Kyle's back to take a look at the screen. Christophe, with tired eyes did the same, resting his chin on Kyle's shoulder and glancing into the laptop. 'It's connected to one of the teacher's bedroom, who is it? Oh yeah, Rolfes.'

'Who? That fat PE teacher?' Christophe grunted, making Kyle chuckle softly. But Gregory wasn't listening.

'Isn't that a shower room?' the blond asked, pointing at the video image Kyle hacked into.

'Yeah… It's a little different though. See? The door's on the left-hand side, not the right—' and slowly, Kyle's jaw dropped in realisation. 'Dude! It's the girl's shower room!'

A tired laugh rattled on Kyle's shoulder, 'Perverted bastard,' Christophe chuckled with his slightly improved accent.

Gregory kept quiet with a stern look and simply watched as Kyle accessed Rolfes' secret files on his computer.

'Sick,' Kyle spat, 'Fuck…'

There were at least twenty videos, all edited to the pervert's favourite scenes. Kyle felt like throwing up the burning rage in his chest, Christophe was no longer laughing and Gregory kept his silence, until Kyle finally closed his laptop fiercely in anger.

'What the fuck!' Kyle raged, 'What the fuck was that!'

'Kyle, calm down—'

'What the fuck do you mean, calm down? Dude, he's sick! We need to take it to the principal! To the police!'

But Kyle received only a grin from Gregory, which made him slowly calm down in confusion.

'I've got a better idea. We can grass him up after that. '

'Grass?'

Gregory ignored him, 'Can you hack into his webcam?'

'A fucking monkey could hack into his webcam,' Kyle muttered, already proving himself without any orders. He showed Gregory the screen divided into two, one half with the video of the girl's shower room, and the other of a dark bedroom. 'How's that?'

'Perfect,' Gregory smiled and patted the redhead on the shoulder. 'Only one more thing you need to do.'

.

He dragged his short thick legs behind him like old dogs weighing him down and chuckled as he entered his dark single room. The chuckle came from hatred, towards his blubbery fat, his lifeless eyes and his bolding head, the whole definition of "ugly" his appearance held. But what was truly ugly was not his appearance, no, it was something deeper, it was something he thanked. It was like black goo inside him. He noticed it most when he watched the young, flourishing adolescent girls pounce around in his class, glancing at their under-developed breasts lightly jiggle under their shirts and their soft thighs pump in action. The black goo would boil, disgusting, but it was oh-so sweet smelling when he thought of the evening, he, alone, with hours of footage of girls showering naked obliviously, and his hand. The black goo in his belly was then his best friend.

Rolfes was glad the school didn't pay much attention to PE, if so then he might not have gotten the job. However, he prided himself on being a committed sports teacher and after another hard day's work, without bothering to turn his bedroom light on, Rolfes pondered straight to his desktop and switched his computer on. It was ten o'clock and he knew that there would be no one in the showers that late at night, so he was going to indulge himself with some edited footage. But before he could choose himself a video his finger paused on his mouse as a small _creak_ whispered out of the computer speaker.

He blinked, and then slowly drew his mouse to the bar of his live spy-camera and opened it on window. Someone had entered the shower room. Rolfes' heart fluttered with excitement and he watched with hungry eyes, but then his quickening heart stopped as he noticed one thing: the incomer was wearing a boy's uniform.

Rolfes' heart began to beat again, heavier now with anger and frustration. What was a boy doing in his video? In the girl's bathroom? In his sexual sanctuary? The fat on his cheeks trembled as he gritted his teeth and glared at the intruder of his fantasy, but then, just as quickly as the anger irrupted, it disappeared. His grinding teeth released and his jaw unconsciously loosened. The boy began to undress.

His movements were delicate, letting slender fingers undo each of the buttons of his shirt slowly and carefully, as if nervous. Finally, his slow fingers undid the last button, and the white fabric slid down his shoulders, his arms, and fell to the floor. Rolfes' small, beady eyes widened into little circles as he stared. The porcelain-like skin revealed from under the shirt was as white and smooth as milk wrapped around the delicate structure of bone and muscle; it made his scarlet curls glow like fire on snow.

Slowly, keeping his eyes glued on the boy's frail back, Rolfes' sausage-like fingers reached out for the lube inside his desk drawer and pumped the liquid onto his palm. Mouth lightly hanging open, his dry hand moved to the front of his trousers and undid the zipper and button to release his hardened cock. He wrapped his lube-upped hand around his erection and began to pump, staring at the undressing boy. Was it his imagination, or was the boy slightly shaking? The thought made him pump a little faster.

The boy's hands moved to the front and Rolfes could tell that he was taking off his trousers and he spat at his computer screen for the boy to hurry up. Finally, his trousers fell to the floor and Rolfes' pumping became frantic. His thighs, his calves, as white and smooth as his shoulders yet only softer, and then his buttocks, hiding under the thin fabric of his underwear perfectly carved… Rolfes drooled out of his hanging mouth without noticing. He wished the boy to do with the underwear and bend over and slide off his socks, arch his thin back and present his spreading buttocks. He wished for him to turn around and show his chest, his nipples, his belly…

'Fu—ck' a deep moan escaped his mouth as he released into his own hand.

When he looked back at the screen the boy was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he forgot his towel? Rolfes grunted and fell asleep in front of his computer.

.

Kyle's hands were clasped tightly around the front of his unbuttoned shirt, hiding his bare chest. He felt a sense of burning coldness inside him as he ran through the dark corridor of the school and headed for the club's secret room. His shaking hand flung the door open and slammed it shut mercilessly with rage behind him.

'Shh… Careful Kyle, what if you woke someone up?'

'Fuck you, you cock sucking asshole!' Kyle yelled and grabbed the smirking Gregory by the collar of his shirt. His emerald eyes were burning in the centre of his startlingly paled face. 'Are you happy now? Are you happy now that you got your fucking evidence?' He spat.

'Yes, quite. Now we can truly prove that he had been masturbating to the videos from his spy camera, thanks to you.' Gregory smiled warmly, 'Couldn't have done it without you Kyle. You really performed quite a strip show—'

Kyle's paled face suddenly lit up with burning red. He took the earphones out of his left ear and threw his handheld transceiver to the blond as aggressively as he could; yet it was caught by the blond with ease.

Pleased with his swift reaction, Gregory looked up from the caught transceiver and glanced at Kyle, and his smirk slowly dropped from his face.

'Fuck… fuck you…' Kyle muttered through quivering lips, 'Fuck you Gregory. Fuck you. I hate you.' There was no sign of a confident smile on Gregory's lips as he watched the redhead run out the room.

Christophe, who was silently watching the two's conflict from the broken couch rose up to his feet, punched the back of Gregory's head and without a word, followed Kyle's path out the room.

With a frown, Gregory rubbed the back of his head and stared at the closed door. But his frown did not last long as he moved his eyes back to the screen of his computer and began to type an anonymous email to the school principal.

.

When Christophe arrived at his dormitory he found the room dark, yet he didn't turn the light on as he stared into the quivering darkness. As carefully and quietly as possible, Christophe walked to the occupied bed and gently revealed the curled-up boy from underneath the blanket. He was shaking and hiding his face in his arms, but he was not crying, Christophe knew, he was too proud for tears.

'Don't' look at me—' Kyle spat in the darkness. 'I hate him, I hate him…'

Still without a word, Christophe slid his growing body into the small bed with the redhead and wrapped his toned arms around his shaking shoulders.

'I feel so humiliated, so ashamed… I hate him, I hate him. I fucking hate him…'

Christophe's grip tightened around Kyle and slowly, pale arms wrapped back around him in response. He was still shaking and he had his teeth gritted to not say any more, but he still did not shed a tear. And somehow, as foreign as it felt, Christophe wished for Kyle to just cry. Just cry in his arms, cry, and share himself, share his feelings, his thoughts he kept behind gritted teeth… It was such a strange, foreign feeling, but the desire was burning inside him, as hot as the heat of the redhead shaking in his arms.

'I'll never do anything like that ever again, I swear… I'm not a fucking whore.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: 8.5

It had been months since Kyle last left his boarding school to return back to his mountain town, and the redhead could not have been more excited, if it wasn't for the bickering of his stressed out parents.

'And could you believe the security system of the school? They pride on being safe and educational, but how safe are they if they have perverted criminals teaching there! It's completely unbelievable!'

Kyle wanted to shut his ears at his mother's voice. He hated how she had to shout out almost everything she said, making everyone deaf around her so that they could not disagree. She was talking about the incident that led to an early summer holidays: the Rolfes' incident, where the PE teacher was arrested for recording footages of the Girl's shower room.

'This is why I disagreed on sending Kyle to boarding school…' His father courageously made a small comment against his mother.

'But you agreed in the end didn't you! And don't pretend that you didn't!'

Kyle finally had to clasp his palms against his ears; it was getting too much. It was strange. He used to be able to listen to his parent's loud arguments, or ignore them at least. But months of years living apart from them had made Kyle unable to tolerate his parents' (mother's) loud, angry voices. God. He missed Christophe, to some extent Gregory and the small isolated world that they had created together, already. Just as Kyle thought of his two friends a small smile appeared on his face. He had his old friends waiting for him.

His parents stopped talking by the time they arrived home, instead they were now giving each other the silent treatment. Yet Kyle dwelled on it, wishing that they'd never open their mouths again. It worried Kyle a little that he'd think of his parents as such nuisance, but he thought that he was going through a cynical period and dismissed it as being a phase. He had been away for so long, he just wasn't used to home yet.

Kyle's friends, on the other hand, were much more positive about Kyle's return. It was not that Kyle's parents were negative about it; they were just busier arguing against each other than to acknowledge Kyle's presence, not like Kyle didn't mind it. Kyle went to Stan Marsh's house everyday, only returning home for dinner. He even spent a few nights a week at his best friend's house, their intimacy earning a playful grin from a certain blond.

'Dude, _you_ try and stay at my house then. It's like I'm not even there. It's like my parents are so used to _not_ having me at home that they forget about me even when I _am_ there.'

'Yeah, gosh, what a tragedy. My heart aches for you.' The poor blond mocked, winning a glare out of the defensive redhead. 'That sure explains why you're at Stan's house all the fucking time like you're his bitch.'

'Dude, he's my best friend!'

'Sure, sure. Hey, do you pay rent by cash, or do you just suck him off every now and then?'

Kyle's face burnt to a bright scarlet before cooling down to a sickish blue. Despite their long friendship, boarding school had sensitised Kyle to his friend's dirty mouth.

'Dude, sick! Sick! And besides, Wendy would fucking kill you if she heard.'

Kenny let out a loud laugh as he pat Kyle on the back amusingly, before letting his hand rest on Kyle's shoulder.

'There, my man, you are mistaken! Wendy won't get mad! Well, at least she doesn't have the right to…' Kyle's tension dropped with a wave of confusion at Kenny's words. The weight of Kenny's hand resting on his shoulder seemed to sink in as Kenny's voice quietened down. 'Stan dumped her, last week.'

The summer breeze was cool, but light. It caressed Kyle's widened eyes and seeped into his opened mouth, but Kyle didn't even notice it. He stared into Kenny's firm icy-blue eyes hollowly, before his gaze slowly dropped to the lake sitting at the bottom of the hill.

'You seem shocked.'

Kyle grinned weakly, an empty smile, as he nodded at Kenny's words.

'Yeah. I am. Stan hasn't told me a thing about it, I'm a little shocked about that, but…' A deep sigh leaked out of his lungs, his smile dropping to a tired frown. 'But more than that, I'm shocked that I didn't notice a thing. He hasn't shown that such a thing happened, and I couldn't see through him to notice it…'

Kenny stared at Kyle, his eyes, his mouth, his shoulders, his expression. But there were so many emotions mixed inside the small redhead, he couldn't make out one speck of it. And he wanted to, and strangely at the same time, he didn't.

'Why?' Kyle suddenly looked up, startling Kenny. 'Why would Stan dump Wendy? Why? They have been together for fucking ever.'

'Yeah, um…' Kenny turned his head from side-to-side, searching his surroundings uncomfortably as he felt Kyle's confused eyes on his face. 'It's because she slept with another guy. You know?'

'What! Slept!' Kyle asked, his voice almost like a squeak from the mixture of red emotions. 'With who?'

Kenny's smile paused, his whole jaw tensing at Kyle question. Kyle could practically see the sweat beading on the back of Kenny's neck through the icy blue eyes. A ghost of a distracting chuckle coughed out of Kenny's mouth and the blond took the chance to break his eyes away from Kyle's.

At Kenny's suspicious reaction, slowly, Kyle's lips perked into an understanding "O". He could not believe it. They were way too young to be doing such thing according to Kyle's standards, and furthermore, even Stan only did it once with Wendy, barely even taking her virginity at it.

'What the fuck, dude!' Kyle pushed Kenny's arm off his shoulder and stood up in anger. 'Why the fuck would you do that? How could you do that to Stan!'

To that, unexpectedly, Kenny stood up, chaining his gaze firmly with Kyle's.

'How could I do that to Stan?' He repeated Kyle's words. 'Dude, why do you think Wendy would even think of sleeping with me? Even more, actually doing it? Dude, I didn't take her by force, you know! And why do you think Stan didn't show any sign of it? Why do you think you never noticed?'

Kyle's mouth turned to a firm line as Kenny closed the gap in between them, step-by-step.

'He was hiding it…' Kyle said, quietly. 'He hid it, to not make me worried!'

'Really? You think Stan would be able to hide something that might be hurting and nagging him? You think he's that strong? Remember how fucking emo he got the last time he got dumped?'

'Shut up!' Kyle tumbled a few steps back, ready to turn his back on the blond he was disgusted in. 'You're just saying that so you don't feel so guilty about fucking Stan's girlfriend!'

'I'm saying it because it's true!'

A family of birds, startled at the raised voice, flew out a tree and fled from Kenny's words. But then Kyle realised that it was only his imagination. Reality was quiet.

'Kyle, he doesn't care. Stan… And how could he?' The tension dropped, as fire turned to water. 'How could he when you're here?'

Kyle's eyes shot wide at those words. Heat brought power and he pushed Kenny away, making the blond stumble back, unable to catch himself. When he looked up, he saw Kyle's back. The redhead was walking away from him with steps that almost jumped. Kenny watched, as something burned in his stomach and chilled in his chest.

'At least now you have all the time in the world with him, right?'

Kenny shouted in anger and frustration, hurt. He didn't see Kyle's reaction to his last words, only his back becoming smaller, and regretted everything he said.

.

Kyle watched as the basketball bounced three times, of course hitting the ground each time, yet Kyle did not hear the sound of rubber hitting concrete. The next second, the ball soared through the air and fell straight into the hoop.

'Yeah! Dude, how good was that!' Stan laughed, throwing the ball to Kyle who caught it perfectly.

Kyle didn't say anything to reward the one goal of the horrible shooter. Instead he shot the ball single-handed and got a goal nonchalantly. Stan scoffed, and then took the ball to shoot, and miss, and shoot, and miss, over and over again.

'I know about you and Wendy.' The ball went through the hoop, but Stan didn't cheer his own success. He was looking at Kyle. 'Dude, why didn't you tell me?'

'Did Kenny tell you?' Kyle nodded, drawing a sigh out of Stan. 'I didn't tell you, because I didn't think it was necessary. I didn't think it was important.'

The ball scored again by Stan, yet it was as if Stan didn't even notice. But on the other hand of the brunet's loss of enthusiasm, there was a boiling sensation beginning to burn in Kyle's stomach.

'How could you say that! Of course it's important! Kenny fucking slept with your girlfriend who you've been together with for like, ever.'

'Dude! You don't need to rub it in my face!'

'Sorry ,' Kyle shrugged, 'but really, it's quite a big deal.'

'To you, maybe. Not to me.' Kyle couldn't even say anything at Stan's words. He simply stared with shock, frozen, at Stan who sighed again. 'Okay, so maybe, it's quite a big deal. Wendy's a fucking slut and a bitch, and Kenny betrayed me. But I couldn't really care right now. I didn't tell you because I just, forgot to.'

'Aren't you even… remotely angry or upset? At Kenny? Wendy?'

'Sure, I guess. But I'm a bit at fault too. I hadn't hanged out with her in ages, sometimes didn't even return her calls or respond to her texts, and you know how much that upsets her. I'm upset, yeah, sure. But I guess it was an opportunity to break things off between us. As you said, we've been together forever. Maybe it's time to break things up.'

'We've been best friends forever. Do you think _we_ should break things up?'

'Dude, you're different.' Stan watched his ball fall through the hoop, and this time, smiled. 'You're special.'

'But dude… How could you _not care_?'

'I don't know. But I think I stopped loving her long ago. Or maybe, I have just other things on my mind.' The ball missed the goal, bouncing back at Kyle's direction. Kyle smirked, catching the ball firmly in his two hands.

'What? Like, shooting hoops with me?'

'Yeah,' Stan chuckled. 'Like that.'

In South Park, if Kyle wasn't with Stan or his other friends, he was mostly on the phone or Internet to contact Christophe and sometimes, Gregory. Sometimes, he would forget the meaning of home and wish that he were somewhere else, back at boarding school with his club, and pretend that they were on some dangerous mission (no more fucking perverts though, thanks). That was, until Stan would send him a message to come over.

Summer, like that, seemed to rush by so quickly, and Kyle could smell a hint of his boarding school as the time to return came closer and closer. Kyle was filled with mixed feelings. He wanted to go back to see Christophe and Gregory, but he didn't want to part with Stan, maybe, sometimes even Cartman, and then Kenny who he had began to forgive.

In the end Kyle promised himself that he would return the next holiday, even if it were just to be with his mountain-town friends. The acceptance of balance and forgiveness seemed to make things much easier for Kyle to return back to school, and in that feeling, Kyle could see himself slightly mature.

'You're not back to boarding school bubbe.' His mother said it so nonchalantly, it was almost like she was stating what she was cooking for dinner. Yet the statement was enough to send a hollow shake through Kyle. 'You're coming back to South Park for high school.'

'What! Why?' Kyle cried, gaining a confused eye from his mother.

'I thought you would be happy, Kyle?'

'Happy? Thought? You don't know anything! I bet you didn't even think, you just assumed!'

'Don't use that tone with me, Kyle!' Sheila spat, but her words not influencing Kyle's desperate stance.

'Did you already tell them I'm not going back? Is it really over?'

'No, we haven't yet. But we will. We can't send you back to a school that hires perverts and criminals for teachers! So yes, it's over! Over! We will send in the withdrawal forms this week.'

'You can't!' Kyle pled for the first time in years. 'You can't just make these decisions without asking for my opinion!'

'We don't _care_ about your opinion!'

Sheila's words that snapped out of her mouth silenced the room with a cold chill. Kyle's eyes were wide, but his lips were firmly shut as he stared at his mother with a shock of despair. And Sheila looked back, her mouth slightly open, but eyes as wide as Kyle's as if she too, could not believe her own claim.

Kyle could feel his eyes burn from anger and frustration. To know that his parents were so stupid, so selfish, narcissistic even. To know that his parents couldn't even care about his feelings… He took a step back, not blinking to keep his eyes on his mother, and then he turned to run out of the house, ignoring his mother's call after him.

He ran from anger and sorrow, to kindness and understanding. He ran to Stan.

The brunet was spread across his bed, trying to read a book, but the sight hardly caught Kyle's eye. When Stan noticed Kyle's entrance it was when Kyle dove into the empty space on the bed next to him, startling his best friend.

'Dude, what's up?' Stan chuckled, watching Kyle dig his face into the mattress. There was an inaudible mumble that leaked out of Kyle in response, which miserable sound made Stan's smile drop. 'Kyle?'

Stan's heart jumped when Kyle finally showed his face. His cheeks were flushed, his lips plump and quivering, and his eyes were red and glistening, desperate to keep the burning emotions from leaking out as tears. And Stan couldn't say anything, or even move as he stared. He couldn't tell what he was feeling, but he wanted to touch Kyle, he wanted to feel his tensed cheek and shaking shoulders and brush the eyelashes that were holding back the tears.

'I'm coming back to South Park.' Stan blinked out of his trance and made a confused breath before Kyle continued his words. 'My parents are taking me out of boarding school.'

'Really? That's great Kyle!' But Stan's smile slowly dropped as he watched Kyle stay tensed with only his burning eyes beginning to cool to a still white. 'Isn't it?'

'I don't know Stan… I don't think I want to come back…' Kyle's words were heavy, but clear. 'I'm going to convince my parents to keep me at boarding school.'

'…Why?' The whisper triggered something in Stan and he jumped up onto his feet, glaring down on Kyle who also began to sit up with slight shock in his eyes. 'Why!'

'Stan… You don't understand.'

'No? How could I understand why you wouldn't want to come back! Before you were so desperate to stay here, but now you're desperate to go!'

'Stan, that was three years ago… And for these three years, I have tried so hard to fit in, to move on and get over South Park. I've tried so hard, Stan. Too hard. And I don't want it to be for nothing…' Stan stayed quiet, with a silent glare simmering and fixed to the ground between Kyle and him. And Kyle tried to smile, tensing his lips into a firm line. 'And besides, my parents were probably right at the start. Being at a boarding school would be better for my education, for my future, than here…' Kyle rose up to rest his hand on brunet's shoulder.

'Stan?'

The second before his hand could contact Stan's shoulder Kyle's whole body was pushed back onto the mattress behind him with sharp force. He closed his eyes in surprise, but then flung them open as he felt the collar of his shirt being pulled back by a tight fist. Stan was on top of him, left hand clasping Kyle's wrist as the right locked around his shirt.

'Are you saying South Park is not good enough for you any more? Are you saying that we are not good enough for you now?'

'Stan! I didn't mean it like that—'

'And you're probably right. You're too good for this Podunk town! You're better off somewhere else!' Kyle opened his mouth to protest again, until he heard Stan's next words: 'In fact, maybe we both are!'

Kyle froze. Stan's voice was loud and harsh to his ears, but the pain of his words were enough to numb him from it. Stan was angry and he wasn't controlling himself, driven only by temper. He couldn't tell if his words were true, but as they entered his ears, they were truer than anything. And without being aware of that, Stan continued, pushing Kyle deeper into the mattress.

'It's been so much easier since you went to boarding school. Everything was so simple. I've had more time with Wendy, to myself, and everyone else! But look, the moment you come back it's like you've dictated my life! You take away my time and so my friend fucks my girlfriend and the relationship that's been lasting for years has ended! Now I'm hardly talking to Kenny, or anyone else because you're always fucking _there_! So go! Go wherever the fuck you want! And don't come back for all I care!'

The first thing Stan could hear was his own harsh breaths. He blinked awake and found Kyle frozen, cold with shock and sorrow spread underneath him. He could feel his own grip, and Kyle's thin wrist being crushed inside it. Yet the redhead said nothing. He didn't even move. Stan could hardly remember the words he just spat out a second ago, but he could clearly see the effects of them.

'Kyle, I—'

The tear that Kyle tried so hard to keep in finally dropped out of the corner of his eye and trailed down his temple. He made Stan's words still in his mouth, until life suddenly erupted in Kyle's eyes. The redhead blinked fiercely, eyebrows furrowing as he glared at the brunet above him. Strong hands pushed at Stan's chest, throwing him off the bed. And Stan couldn't say a word as Kyle ran out the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Stan could not blink. He stayed quiet, the sound of Kyle slowly running away from his room reaching his ears, unbearably. He stayed on the floor, staring at the small dust knitted into his carpet as the words he had said began to echo in his head.

It had been so much easier without Kyle. It was the truth. With Kyle, everything seemed more complicated and confusing, and sometimes it was agonising. But even worse than that, was the time when Kyle was away. The time when he wasn't with Kyle was more agonising than anything. Stan wondered why he hadn't said that, and regretted it.

To imagine Kyle coming back to South Park, to imagine them being together all the time was like the most wonderful dream, and when Kyle said he was coming back, it was a dream come true. But then Kyle went and crushed it down. It broke Stan's heart, and so he broke Kyle's.

But now he regretted it. He regretted how he missed telling Kyle the most important of his feelings.

Stan looked up, and the door was closed. He couldn't feel his feet or his arms, only his lungs and the weight of them as they breathed. The door was so far, and Kyle, beyond it.

After his feelings had cooled down and night had come over, Stan reached out to his phone and typed in a message and sent it to Kyle. The thought that their friendship might end didn't enter his brain, but still, he prayed. When Stan finished typing his message, he noticed that he had unlocked his buried feelings. He noticed that his heart was in it, and that the message was equivalent to a love letter. But there was only one thing that he wanted to say, one true thing: that he needed him.

Stan did not receive a reply, for good or for bad.

Not for the next seven years.

.

Kyle didn't know if he was filled with anger or sorrow, but he felt burning in his stomach and chest, and he ran. Stan's words were repeating in his head, a raging fuel to him, making Kyle blind to where he was going and run faster and faster. Kyle ran until he was caught by a tree; the wind stopped and the burn turned to ice in his chest. Stan's words weighed on him. He grasped the bark with his hands for support but still the weight brought him down kneeling to the ground.

Behind the tree, the sun was beginning to set, burning Kyle's eyes as he looked up from the ground. He felt despair, as if he had just lost his home to a great typhoon, and the sun that shone after the passing of the clouds was just too bright. Kyle got to his feet, and began to walk slowly and unsurely.

'Kyle?' Kyle's ears picked up the careful voice, and he came to conscious that he was sitting down on the train tracks: the rusty rail dimly reflecting the red sun. 'Dude, what are you doing here?'

Kenny sat on the tracks parallel to him, observing Kyle with a comforting grin smoking his lips and eyes. Kyle tensed his cheeks, then dug his face back into his knees.

'I want to go away…'

'Well, you know no train goes through these rails, right? You can wait here for hours and no train will come.' Silence was the answer, which made Kenny's smile dim. 'Why would you want to go away anyway?'

'I had a fight with Stan…' Kenny's shoulders fell slightly in relief, as if it was an exaggeration, no big deal. And Kyle lifted his head, just enough to show his eyes and lips. 'I don't think we can be friends anymore…'

To that, Kenny's smile completely disappeared. After their long years of friendship, Kenny had never heard such a thing come out coated in a voice of serious reality, never, because Kyle had never said it until now.

'I said things… But then Stan said things, horrible things that I wish I never heard. True things…'

Kyle went to dig and hide his face again, until Kenny caught his cheek, and gently grabbed him by the arm to pull him up to his feet. In silence, Kenny led Kyle off the train tracks and back towards the way of the redhead's house.

Kyle let Kenny pull him lightly, following his footsteps as he wobbled around, until he came to a firm and sudden halt.

'What's wrong?' Kenny asked as Kyle stared down. They were on a bridge, and the water beneath them, peaking through the gaps of the bridge wood, was trickling down infinitely. The heavy rocks at the bottom were covered in moss, as the lighter ones rolled with the water, clean, new, untouched as it rolled along. 'What are you thinking?'

'Many things,' Kyle answered, staring at the water flowing into the mountains cutting off the horizon. 'And then, nothing at all.'

Kenny suddenly felt like he wanted to cry, and he was confused at his own rare urge. He had not shed a tear in a long time, but now, the urge to mourn whispered inside him. It hurt uncomfortably, like a pulse beating in a new wound. And he did not know why.

'Even if you and Stan stop being friends… We can still be friends, right?'

The water flowed, its sound like quivering breaths. The sunset reflected on the boys' skins, cool and soft.

'I don't know Kenny… I don't know about anything anymore.'

Kyle dug into his pocket, grabbed his phone with a firm grip, and threw it as far as he could toward the horizon of the water. He heard a small splash, and saw the water dance in the air. He forgot the weight of his own phone. He didn't know whether it would sink or roll.

His whole body now suddenly felt light, and the feeling weighed on him like smoke in lungs.

The phone, lost in the water, never announced a message to its owner again, and Kyle didn't find out his friends' feelings.

Not for the next seven years.


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N- Thank you S.J for your comment! Now how could I resist? **

**Hope you enjoy~**

* * *

Chapter Three: 10.5

Kyle's parents, filled with guilt, were not difficult to convince (Kyle betted that they were secretly glad to send him away in the end). They even agreed for him to stay at Christophe's house until the end of summer, and granted, Kyle left the next day.

One suitcase was enough as Kyle rolled it through the small platform of South Park station. There were two platforms, one to go left and the other, right. His parents, although granted his wish, were busy enough to not watch him off. He wondered if they would have come if they thought that they would never see him again, although in that case they still had another, better son left. The thought that he won't be missed erased any shadows of hesitation that was still lingering in his chest. Kyle dwelt in the quietness until the whistle of the train took him.

Through the window, he watched the small mountain town through the fogged and scratched window of the train, until he was content enough to not feel the need to see it as if never again. The desolated train was perfect for thinking, but Kyle chose to stay away from his thoughts as much as possible. When he did think, all he could think of was his fight with his parents, and then Stan Marsh. He regretted it, but somewhere, he guessed that he was glad to have been able to hear Stan's true feelings. Now, at least, he won't be a burden to his dearest friend. Being a burden hurt, but carrying one must be worse.

Kyle only realised how little thought he had put into his actions when he arrived at Christophe's house. He had only been thinking about himself, and although he had Christophe's permission, his sudden invasion would be either a nuisance or an inconvenience. That's what he thought as he knocked on the door, but when it opened he was almost swept off his feet.

It was the first time Kyle had spent a decent amount of time at Christophe's house and with his family, well, his mother. She was French (which was clear by her thick accent, which Christophe had managed to improve by that time), and was enthusiastically welcoming, although Kyle was taken aback when Christophe told him to not mention being a Jew. She called Kyle _le petit ange_ and accepted him adoringly, but the way she smiled with her deep staring eyes somehow made Kyle shudder. Christophe stated that she may be strange but she means no harm, and Kyle couldn't help but notice a slight coolness in his eyes as he said it.

'She doesn't even ground me anymore.'

'Well, I don't hear you say many naughty things about God!' Kyle laughed as he was taken to the guest room. 'Besides. It's like we're grounded all the time in that fucking school.'

'Really? I've never felt so free.'

Kyle made an awkward chuckle, wondering if that was a joke or not. But he didn't ask. Something made him stop asking questions. He had a few that lingered in his head, normal questions for Christophe about the rest of his family, like his missing father, and his time before he came to America; similar questions he had for Gregory. But something made him stop, like a cowardly shadow. Something always did. Even with Gregory.

The perfect blond came to Christophe's house for the last few days to join them, with the excuse that his grandmother was going back to England for a holiday. He was welcomed too by Christophe's mother, but not as dearly as Kyle was. He wasn't called _le petit ange_, at least. He was welcomed even less by Kyle, for he stole half the guest's bed from him. Kyle felt even more frustrated when Christophe offered to swop beds with Gregory but not himself (although the blond declined).

So when the time came for the trio to return to school, they all did so together. Christophe's mother was almost tearing when they were to leave. She kissed each of them on their cheeks, and Kyle could almost feel her lips shaking as she did so.

'_Le petit ange_!' She said and then hugged him. '_Son sauveur_…'

Kyle still didn't know what her words meant, but her dramatic farewell made Kyle worried, almost scared, and he looked ahead of her shoulder to Christophe for help, but the brunet only watched with blank eyes. Kyle chose to let it go and think of her of just being a slightly emotional person.

'You can come to my place next time.' Gregory suggested once Kyle was free of Christophe's mother's hands. 'My grandmother would be slightly more stoic, even if you are _un petit ange_.'

Kyle decided that he hated that nickname and warned those two of using it again.

.

The first day of his new school year, Kyle quickly noticed a change to his school. The number of students returned for the new year had reduced dramatically, from small to less. It could be seen by the open space of the corridors and grounds, but even more than that, it was obvious because there were very few girls. But Kyle didn't need to ask others why that was. He remembered how his parents were determined to take him out of boarding school that summer, and imagined that the parents of the girls would have been even more determined. By the next year, the school had turned completely boys-only to avoid the humiliation and make an excuse as to why so few girls attended after the scandal. But it did not bother Kyle at that time. Christophe and Gregory had not quit, and that was all that mattered.

'Poor bastards.' Gregory said, lacking the sympathetic tone in his voice as he observed his fellow male students pondering out their bedrooms for dinner. 'I wonder how long they'd be able to keep their minds in tact without a single girl in sight.'

'You sound like you don't care' Kyle looked to his right to face the neat blond chuckling at his comment.

'I don't.'

'Three months.'

'What, is that how long you think _you're_ going to last?' Kyle looked to his left to Christophe.

'No. Why would I need a girl when I have such a pretty friend like you?'

Christophe's tone was always hard to read and Kyle didn't know whether to burn or pale, so he did both as Gregory cringed to keep in a laugh.

'You've already lost it Chris—'

A firm contact to his chest interfered Kyle's words, making the redhead look ahead to realise that he had just walked into an elbow. The elbow that poked him moved out of his vision as the student turned and now, Kyle was looking up into two fierce eyes glaring through sandy hair.

'Watch it shrimpy.'

Kyle batted his long lashes blankly, before his eyes copied the boy's glare.

'Fuck off Derek. And I'm not a fucking shrimp.'

'You are to me.'

'Well,' Kyle crossed his arms in front of his chest as he acknowledged the height difference between them. 'If anyone shorter than you is a shrimp, then everyone fucking is, Bigfoot.'

A snort from Christophe encouraged him, but Derek did not laugh. His frown sunk deeper into his face as his brick-like nose tensed crookedly.

'You better really watch it Broflovski.'

The large boy poked Kyle in the chest warningly, almost bruising him, before he finally turned and walked away like a bear. Kyle let out a small, relaxed sigh as he turned around the corner.

'I don't know whether to call you courageous or stupid, Broflovski.' Gregory shook his head with a smile as they began to walk.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean you should take on somebody your own size.'

'Oh yeah? Like Christophe? Or maybe that'll be unfair to him; I do have an extra inch or so.'

'That's the illusion of curly hair Kyle. He'll soon outgrow you.'

Kyle ignored him.

'Who would stick up to that freak Derek, then? You?'

Christophe smirked and Gregory chuckled. They both knew that Gregory didn't think of Derek to be even worth his time. Only Kyle was not smiling, instead he had an unsatisfied pout on his lips, and Gregory noticed this, still amused.

'No, but seriously, Kyle. Did you not see his muscles?'

'No. I was a little distracted with his eyes glaring daggers down at me, actually.'

'Well, you should observe your enemy more closely, my friend. He looks as though he could snap your arm in half with a light squeeze.' But then the amusement fell from Gregory's eyes, along with his charming smile. 'And he doesn't look like he would have the brains to stop himself from doing anything stupid.'

Gregory blinked, and his smile quickly returned as he noticed Kyle staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

'Yeah, you're right. I guess he does look like a bonehead.'

'Maybe you should ask Christophe to be your bodyguard then? Skill outweighs both weight _and_ height.'

Kyle looked at Christophe, who had turned his head at his name, yet it was clear that he had not been listening.

'I'll do anything to protect you.'

Kyle scrunched up his face annoyingly and glared at the boys on each side of him, stopping their feet as he did. 'God, won't you guys stop being dicks and not tease me for once?'

The brunet blinked at Gregory in confusion as the redhead began to walk again.

'I _will_ protect him, though.'

The blond rolled his eyes and pulled Christophe in Kyle's stomping direction.

'Yes, I know Mole. Come on.'

The trio were the last to enter the cafeteria, but nobody noticed them as all the boys were focused on munching and chewing away at their dinner. At least, that was what Kyle thought until he passed Derek's table and met eyes with the sandy blond again. He glared at the fierce eyes, but turned without a word and kept on moving, his red hair flicking in the air provokingly as he did.

Ever since the first day of boarding school, the boy had been nothing but a bastard to Kyle, but the redhead didn't take it personally. The guy was a dick, to everyone and everything that came in his path. Kyle had just managed to piss him off, unintentionally promoting his existence to the large teenager with self-control issues.

.

The glowing screen of Kyle's laptop reflected in his emerald eyes. They widened as Kyle tapped his track pad, then rolled before the redhead sighed as he closed the lid of his computer.

'Dude, we should totally get rid of those cameras we hid up around the school.'

'Why?' Gregory asked without taking his eyes off his own computer, long fingers wrapped around his warm cup of earl grey.

'Because I'm catching all these weird things on camera, and they're really disturbing.' The two other "club" members barely hummed at Kyle's words, clearly uninterested. Kyle tensed his nose in frustration and sat up cross-legged to glare at the two foreigners. 'You know what I just saw? I just saw _a guy_ giving _another guy_ a fucking hand job behind the lockers in exchange for exam papers.'

To that, Christophe's eyes twinkled excitingly and he looked up to Gregory.

'Three months.' The French boy said, making the blond roll his eyes and throw a box of cigarettes to the brunet, who caught them with a victorious chuckle.

'Don't bother now.' Gregory went on to answer Kyle's suggestion. 'You can do it while most students are away for Christmas. It'll be easier then.'

'What, aren't you guys going to help me?'

'I'm not the fussy one.' Gregory shrugged with a smile.

Kyle didn't even bother to look at the brunet, smoking away happily in his wheelie-chair. The smoke from his cigarette rose in circles as Christophe twirled in his chair and smoked, and Kyle wondered why it didn't make him feel sick.

Sighing, Kyle lifted the lid of his laptop, only to slap it shut again with a blush. Another sigh leaked out of him. He couldn't wait to bring down the cameras during the Christmas holidays.

.

A couple of weeks later, the halls were emptied of students talking excitedly of their plans for Christmas and New Years, of how they'd get a girl, how they would kiss and fuck 'and get married and have babies and get a divorce after realising how much they hate each other', Kyle mocked. Although there was the exception of the handful of students who stayed at school for the holidays, including Kyle, Gregory and Christophe. The lack of students felt so refreshing to Kyle, the quiet and emptiness of the hallways made him skip his way to the showers.

He was forced to take a shower at the shared shower room for once because Gregory was taking his time grooming himself in their en suit. But with everyone gone home, the idea didn't seem so bad; in the large, open showers, Kyle could fucking sing at the top of his lungs and dance and not care, if he wanted to, but he was already humming. Life is a cabaret! Old chum.

But that all crumbled the second Kyle opened the door and the sound of raining water entered his ears. His body froze as his mind debated whether to turn back and return to wait for Gregory to finish like always, but by the time he decided, it was too late. Two cold eyes were looking his way.

'What are you looking at, Shrimp?'

Kyle's eyes twitched at the name, and his mouth opened automatically.

'I told you I'm not a shrimp Derek, you, Big…' Kyle's words slowed to a stop as if his voice drowned in the air entering his parted mouth. He was shocked with what he saw. Derek merely raised his eyebrow at Kyle's unusual reaction, before going back to rinsing the soap out of his hair. Kyle gulped his mouth back shut as his eyes stayed on the teenager taking a shower before him. For the first time, Kyle saw the reality of Derek's muscles, as they were free from the clothes that normally hid them. His thick arms, shoulders and back, the strong tones moving like waves as he rinsed his hair aggressively, his arse, thighs and calves, still as he plant his feet firm on the ground, were like steel.

Kyle didn't know whether to feel intimidated or embarrassed. His cheeks subtly lit up as he remembered Gregory's words that he should take on somebody his own size. He suddenly felt self-conscious about his skinny arms and legs, the tenderness of his belly and bottom hiding behind his clothes, and even his skin now, white and unloved by the sun.

He wanted to turn back, but now he couldn't if he didn't want to prove himself chicken to the bully taking his shower as if he didn't care about Kyle's gaze. Breathing in the air he had stopped from nervousness, Kyle began to undo his school shirt with a stronger nerve. He could tell that Derek looked back at Kyle's unexpected action, but Kyle tried not to care, and took down his pants.

Quickly enough, the redhead trotted towards the showers, as far away as possible from the other boy, and turned on the water. He gasped at the sudden cold water shotting at his head, but it soon turned to warm luxury, and the only thing uncomfortable now were Derek's eyes on him.

His damp curls were now weighing down and sticking to his neck, and Kyle searched for the soap, only to find that the only one was in front of the blond showering next to him. He didn't want to ask for it, and he feared that reaching out for it would cause unwanted physical contact, making an awkward situation worse. He decided to wait for Derek to finish and get out, but he was still looking at him, not showing any sign of finishing.

'Why aren't you back at home for Christmas, anyway, Derek?' Kyle asked bitterly as he crossed his arms across his chest and subtly turned his back as he asked. But there was no answer, and Kyle felt a bubble of frustration pop in his head and he turned to face the boy. 'Couldn't your family afford the extra Christmas turkey for you—'

Kyle's lips curled to a shut the second he said those words as he watched Derek's eyes glow in anger. But just as quickly as the anger glimmered in Derek's eyes, they disappeared as they widened. Kyle's mouth parted in confusion as he watched the larger boy look down, but before he could tell anything, Derek turned off his tap and rushed to his towel and clothes.

But the confusion soon evaporated from Kyle's conscious as he spotted the free passage to soap and took it into his hands. He heard Derek exit the shower room in the distance, but did not bother to check before he began to hum under the water.

.

'Oh good. You're finally out.' Kyle mocked when he returned back to his room to find Gregory, all perfect and clean, reading a book at his desk. The blond merely brushed off the sarcastic comment with a smile.

'How was it like having the open showers all to your self?'

'Oh, not too bad. Except for the fact that I wasn't fucking alone!' Kyle spat, making Gregory raise his brows and Christophe take his eyes off the window to turn to the conversation.

'Who else was there?'

'Bigfoot Derek.'

Christophe scrunched up his face in confusion.

'Why is _he_ here? He wasn't here at dinner.'

'Who cares? He probably got rejected by his family or something.'

'Did he do anything to you?'

Kyle's heart jumped at the question, and he blushed his disgusted expression.

'What the fuck does that mean!'

Gregory smirked at Kyle's taking of the question and shook his head.

'I'm surprised you kept your tongue behind your teeth.'

'I didn't.'

'How were you able to come back in one piece, then?'

'Well, I don't know,' Kyle exclaimed, kicking Christophe shoes out of the way annoyingly as he made his way to his bed. 'It was quite funny though. I told him that his family didn't want him home because they couldn't afford the extra turkey for him.'

'How mature. And he let you go for that?'

'Yeah! I was sure he'd throw a punch or something, because he was glaring fucking murder, but— I don't know. He just looked down and left, like that. Probably got a massive hard-on from my sexy ass.' Kyle expected a roar of laughter, but as nothing came, he looked up to find two eyes gawking at him instead. 'Dude! Come on, I'm joking! Who the fuck would be turned on by this, huh?' The redhead lightly slapped his right buttock to emphasise his point, before dropping himself on his bed. This made the blond scoff and the brunet take out a cigarette and turn his gaze back to the window. The cold air was piercing to the freshly showered duo, but the smoke of the cigarette kept them from complaining about the opened window.

.

It was past one at night and Kyle had come back from his midnight stroll. He placed two tiny cameras on his desk, before collapsing onto his bed.

'Is that all?' Gregory asked the boy sinking into his mattress.

'No. There's still one at the gymnasium, and then there's the one on the second floor that's broken now. But there will be no one there in the day anyway, so I'll do it tomorrow. I think it's good though, taking them down before anyone finds them…'

The end of Kyle's words drowned into his sleep, and his voice was replaced by the sound of his soft breaths. Watching the boy sink into his unconsciousness, Christophe grumbled at the blond to turn his light off, and the room soon melted into darkness.

While being the first to sleep, Kyle was the last to wake up, as always. Gregory said that it was his long sleep that gave him his extra (unnecessary) energy and feistiness. The blond was the early bird, who could finish his morning jogging before anyone woke up. Christophe on the other hand, was more nocturnal; his corrupted sleeping habits created bags under his eyes that magically didn't stand out on his olive skin.

The clouds were a glowing grey, and it made no difference from the morning and after-noon. But the snow was gentle. Because of the lack of students, the ground outside was virgin snow, like a sheet of perfect white, untouched. Kyle felt a childish flutter in his heart as he made the first footsteps on the snow.

The broken camera was safe in the bin, and he only had one to go. Kyle could take his time; no one would care as long as he wasn't caught smuggling a camera out of the gym. He kicked the snow and looked at the sky. For some reason, he felt so liberated. All alone in the white grounds: free. The icy air made breathing seem so easy.

But a sudden sneeze made Kyle come to a halt. His body began to lose its excited tension, flowing out of him with his long breath. He looked down, and his white fingers were glowing with pink. He should do what he came to do before they got numb.

A little eagerly, Kyle pushed the door of the gymnasium open, and as he gained the sudden shelter from the snow, the sound of light tapping entered his ears. The heavy door closed behind him, making him jump, and along with that, the light tapping suddenly stopped.

Oh God. He must be jinxed. Kyle let out a big sigh as he accepted Derek's glare on him, the small handles of the skipping rope in the blond's hands crying in his firm grip. But Kyle brushed it all off with a roll of his eyes and turned.

'I'll come back later.'

'Do you have a problem if I'm here?' Derek's unexpected words stopped the redhead and slowly, Kyle turned.

'Apart from the fact that _you're_ _here_? No, I don't really.'

Derek's invisible eyebrows twitched, and then he took both handles into one hand before taking his steps closer to Kyle.

'So what is your problem with me, then?'

'Oh, I don't know. Let's see.' Kyle flattered his eyes around sarcastically as he hid his uncomfortableness for the distance closing in between them. 'Well, firstly, you're always glaring fucking murder into me. You try to intimidate me by hunching over me like a bear. You keep on calling me shrimp, even if I'm _not_ short. Oh yeah, and the fact that you threatened to break my ankle on the first day of school!'

Now Derek was barely one foot away from him, towering over him like the problem he had pointed out. But Kyle managed to keep his glare, even in his shadow.

'And how about you, Derek?' Kyle sneered. 'What problem do you have with me?'

With a sudden _bang_, the tension between Kyle's eyes dropped as he jumped in alarm. Derek's arm was beside his face, extended to the wall to cage Kyle in. The redhead gulped, before forcing the tension back to his eyes.

'What is my problem with you?' Derek repeated Kyle's words, face closing in to Kyle's horror. 'You have a problem with my eyes, I have a problem with yours. In fact, everything about you, I have a problem with.'

Without warning, Derek flung Kyle off the wall, but light enough so that he wouldn't lose his balance. It was the next second, that Kyle's body fell to the floor with a single blow to the chin.

.

'Where's Kyle?' Christophe asked the only other boy in the room. Gregory only spared a quick glance away from his book to look at the brunet closing the door behind him.

'He went to collect the rest of the cameras.'

'Now?'

'About half an hour ago.' Christophe blinked in suspicion of Gregory's words, before walking across to Kyle's desk to open up his laptop. 'He wouldn't like you touching his stuff—'

'He wouldn't mind.'

Gregory sighed at Christophe's insensitivity and turned to face the brunet, and noticed his frozen back.

'What's wrong?'

'Kyle hasn't taken down the camera. The last one's still showing the gymnasium.'

Gregory raised his eyebrows and stood up to look over Christophe's shoulder to watch the screen.

'There's no one in the gymnasium. He's probably just playing around in the snow, taking his time.'

'In this snow?'

'Well it only just began to strengthen.' Gregory shrugged as he returned back to his seat. 'You worry too much about him. Take it easy before it turns into an obsession.'

'Obsession?' Christophe finally took his eyes away from the screen to glare at Gregory. 'How am I obsessed?'

To that, Gregory sighed as if that was the one question he didn't want to answer.

'Just— relax, okay? He's not a baby, oblivious and innocent maybe, but you are not his mother. Let him be. Let him learn on his own. Stop trying to monitor him for security. Treat him normal, like you would anyone else.'

Gregory's words ended, but Christophe stayed silent. He turned back to the screen, so it was impossible to read his face.

'But he isn't anyone else...'

One last, soft sigh leaked out of Gregory's nose and he nodded, either in resignation or acceptance of Christophe's words. The blond turned, and Christophe turned back to the screen showing the empty gymnasium. He didn't care much for Gregory's words. The feeling lurked in him that something was wrong, something that was causing Kyle to be late, and Christophe did not think of that to be obsessive, but caring.

The curser began to move on the screen as Christophe took it across and pressed on the rewind button. Time moved back in the empty gymnasium, until, with a twitch of the eye, Christophe began to play the footage. Slowly, suspiciously narrowed eyes began to widen. Without a breath, the brunet jumped out of his seat and rushed out the door, not saying a word to his alarmed friend staring at him leave the room.

Gregory looked back at the screen Christophe had just left open, but there was only the footage of an empty gym again.

.

The world was dark, and then it was a canvas of dimly glowing colours. Everything seemed so slow, his breath, his heartbeat, the parting of his eyelashes as he blinked. His body felt so heavy to Kyle, limp even, contrasting greatly from the light and quick sounds of rustling that began to enter his ears.

'What— what…' his words were slow as they weighed on his tongue. His eyes wondered around, and slowly took in from his surroundings that he was in the storage room of the school's gymnasium. '…What happened?'

'You passed out.'

'Oh…' God, it throbbed right under his chin, and his head too. Kyle reached out to touch the hurting flesh, to find that he couldn't move his hands. His eyelids were still drooping, but his heart rate was beginning to quicken. He tugged again to try and move his hands. 'Why— why can't I move my hands?'

'You're tied.'

'Why am I tied!' But Kyle suddenly stopped his desperate struggling as his mind began to function, and he looked up, to find Derek looking down at him. 'Derek… Why am I tied?'

Derek didn't answer, but merely continued to look down on Kyle with a blank expression. It was as if the large blond himself was asking himself the same question. Feeling his body heat rise up in anger and frustration, along with his heart rate racing with secret panic, Kyle narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth, ignoring his own vulnerable position.

'Are you going to bash me, is that it? Am I that much of an eyesore to you? Because I don't run away from you with my tail between my legs?' His words were still quiet, but challenging. Everything was beginning to clear now, his vision, the sounds, the air… the tightness of the muscles in his arm and the pain around his wrists. 'And still you have to tie me up? Coward. You're a bundle of muscle, but you're not confident enough to face me without—'

A heavy, cold sound echoed the room, killing Kyle's words in his mouth. Kyle's eyes were wide, as if he couldn't believe what just happened. A fist would have had less impact, but instead he was slapped. Slapped on the cheek with that wide palm.

When Kyle looked up, Derek's eyes were wide too, his mouth parted, and strange, with only one slap his breathing was quick and loud. But when the weight of his brain brought his eyes down from Derek's face, coldness attacked his chest, and for a second Kyle's breath stopped as his eyes caught Derek's crotch.

'The fuck…' Kyle muttered, staring at the bulge in Derek's exercise pants. But then as Derek moved to take a step, the redhead blinked out of his trance in subtle panic. 'Don't come near me! Fuck— stay away!'

Large hands grasped at Kyle's thrashing legs, bending them, pushing them up and over Derek's shoulders. The blond pushed in, and to Kyle's petrifying horror, their lips met. It was only brief, as Kyle managed to tear his face away from the distasteful invasion, but in its stead, raging hands pulled at his shirt, ripping off the delicate buttons to reach the skin beneath. The touch of his rough hands was cold, disgusting— but most of all, frightening to derangement. He forgot himself and froze under the touch, until the hands moved to undo Kyle's pants.

He shouted and cursed. The skin around his wrists was burning away as they pulled and twisted for freedom. Coldness finally attacked his lower body, and in despair, a small sob leaked out of his throat. Now he could feel the hands on his thighs, and it caused the world to blur. With one last curse, Kyle could feel cold hopelessness.

The hands slipped away. The weight pushing down into his body suddenly left and he could breathe again, a sharp, resurrecting breath. And then a loud whack, and a strong, heavy thud tore through the room. But Kyle didn't blink to free his eyes from his blurred vision. He could hear quick footsteps and a panicked voice come towards him, and the next second, his painful wrists were freed. Without a breath, Kyle aggressively wiped away the dampness in his eyes to be reunited with vision, and saw the worried eyes of a friend looking into him.

There was now miraculously warmness on his skin, and Kyle found Christophe's coat covering his exposed body.

'Fuck— Christophe, I'm alright… Thank you…' the redhead said, softening the tensed hazel eyes as he pulled up his pants and grasped at his the front of his shirt shut underneath the coat. Kyle, wanting a reassuring smile from the French boy, added, 'He barely touched me. I'm fine, really.'

But before Kyle could observe the relieved smile, his eyes caught the figure rising behind Christophe and he opened his mouth to warn the brunet of it. The large fist that was raised looked powerful enough to crack a person's skull. Derek threw it down at the intruder, but all it caught was thin air before it stopped. Derek's massive body was frozen, and all by the one, olive-skinned hand that caught his punching arm in a killing grip.

Kyle relaxed his body in relief once he saw that Christophe had stopped the punch, but it didn't last. Christophe's eyes that were now on Derek, were merciless. A small moan escaped Derek's mouth from Christophe's grinding grip, and the next second it turned into a painful howl. The brunet had brutally twisted Derek's arm like a spanner, and as the blond's face cringed in pain, he threw a fist into his nose.

Derek fell to the ground with a spurt of blood, and Christophe straddled him, sending another punch into his face with the fist that was still holding onto the skipping rope that had been tying Kyle's wrists. Kyle, shocked, could not move as he watched Christophe attack, until, a small shock burst his heart.

The small, desperate sounds of Derek's chocking filled the quiet room. The skipping rope was in both of Christophe's hands, and its centre was tied around the neck of the boy struggling underneath him.

'Christophe! No! Stop!' Kyle dived up, tumbling over to the French boy chocking his attacker. But his voice didn't seem to be reaching the brunet as he kept on tightening the rope. Derek's mouth opened, choking, his fingers clawing at the rope around his neck. Kyle called in horror. 'Christophe! Stop! Stop— You're going to kill him, you're killing him! For fuck's sake, stop!'

Derek's eyelids slowly began to close, hiding the white balls behind it, and the strength in his shoulders, back, arms slipped away as his hands fell to the floor.

'Stop.'

Kyle's arms wrapped around Christophe's shoulders, his forehead on his back as if he was begging to his friend to listen, and finally his words seemed to have reached him. The power, sheer determination and instinct to kill, slowly began to flow out of Christophe's arms and out of the rope around Derek's neck. Kyle watched the lifeless body in dread, until Derek's eyes opened wide, and his loud coughing for air filled the room, shocking Kyle, yet sending deep relief in him at the same time. But Christophe only watched with hatred.

He stood up, and walked across the body struggling on the floor, and as Derek began to quieten with relaxation, Christophe silenced him under the point of a wooden baseball bat. Both Derek and Kyle watched Christophe with fear and worry in their eyes.

'The only reason why I'm not killing you now, is because Kyle asked me not to. But if you tell anyone about this, or try and hurt or touch Kyle again,' Christophe tapped Derek's temple with the bat as if for demonstration, 'I will blow your brains out. I will not hesitate to kill you.'

The snow was gentle again outside, and Kyle waited with hollow eyes, for Christophe who was finishing his job for him. When he returned with the last camera, Christophe was back to the person Kyle was familiar with, the quiet and menacing, yet kind French boy. But the cold, icy eyes that glared with threatening hatred into Derek as he choked him, was still burning in Kyle's mind. The eyes that made you think that it was truly the end, and seem to be sending you off to Hell. The eyes that seem to have already been there.


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N- Hi, thanks for reading! And thank you for reviewing S.J and Maddy. It's what makes me wanna update.**

**Half done and towards the finale!**

**Hope you enjoy~**

* * *

Chapter Four: 12.5

Kyle was sitting on his bed, knees tucked to his chest as he fought the urge to curl up under the sheets. He didn't want to show weakness to the brunet beside him, and that feeling alone was excruciating. He wanted to change his clothes, he wanted to yell and cry, just rage, he wanted to be alone— but at the same time, alone was the last thing he wanted to be. Gregory was out taking care of the mess Christophe had caused on Derek, more rationally making sure that no one else would find out about the affair. And so it was just the two.

'Three months… maybe Derek had been crazy for a while because I don't think three months is long enough to make someone crazy, but… Why me?' Kyle glanced up, and was startled as he met Christophe's straight eyes in return. He quickly broke the gaze between them, scared of the sense of nakedness and transparency he felt under those eyes, and wiped his lips. 'Fuck— I can still taste him…'

The bed creaked, but Kyle dared to look up and see those eyes again. Yet, when fingers pulled his chin and tilted his face up, he didn't protest. Kyle's lips met another, briefly, until Christophe broke away as carefully as he came.

'Oh yeah, I forgot.' Kyle chuckled weakly, empty, cradling his head in his arm as he turned his burning eyes away. '_You_ had already lost it.'

There were many emotions erupting inside him, many fears and confusions that would make him sick. He glanced down through his cradling arm at Christophe's hand. It was the hand that so gently tended the wound that Derek had caused on him and yet again, it was the same hand that inflicted so many wounds onto Derek. It was the hand that almost killed him.

'You would have stopped, wouldn't you?' Christophe frowned in confusion, and Kyle lowered the wall of his arm hiding his face so that his voice could travel clearer. 'Even if I didn't stop you, you would have stopped strangling Derek before you did any serious damage, right? You didn't mean it when you said you would kill him, right?'

'I meant it.' Emerald eyes grew wide. Kyle's shoulders rose as he drew an inch back unconsciously, as Christophe drew in. 'I meant it when I said I'll kill him if he hurt you again. I wanted to kill him then and there, but you stopped me. And if you hadn't, I wouldn't have stopped.'

Kyle could not blink, or move, or speak. He was frozen, except for the quickened breaths escaping and rushing in to his mouth. Watching his shock spread through Kyle's body, Christophe released his tension with remorse, softening as he placed a hand on Kyle's scared knee.

'And what would have been wrong with that? He would have deserved it.' Kyle's eyes blinked, making conscious light shine in the emeralds as he furrowed his eyebrows in bewilderment.

'No he wouldn't have. No one deserves to die.'

'Some people do. And even if they don't, they die anyway.'

Those words, so simple from Christophe's mouth, were so forward and firm of a belief that it almost sounded like truth. No. Kyle could see that to Christophe those words _were_ the truth. But to Kyle, those words were a completely new dark world: a world that had a completely different perception of death. Kyle had just seen a small glimpse of it, but still he could not believe it.

'I don't think I would be able to kill someone, and I don't know how anyone could. I mean, I think I would in self-defence, in a life-or-death situation. And I also understand that people can kill in war, because you kind of lose yourself, but—'

'Life is war.'

'Christophe, I'm being serious!' Kyle glared at Christophe for his light-hearted philosophical comment, but his frustration froze as he looked at Christophe's calm eyes.

'So am I.'

Silence came. Kyle couldn't say a word. He didn't know whether he was angry or anxious by Christophe; he didn't know whether to take him seriously, because he didn't know whether he was taken seriously by him. Christophe watched as Kyle tucked his chin in and sunk his weight into the mattress, and then continued to talk.

'We are all living on the sacrifice of another, or being sacrificed for another. And even us, kids, we are living on the suffering of other people, even people who live far away, people we won't ever meet or know. We are all killing someone consequently without knowing it. Everyone dies, Kyle. What does it matter how and when it happens?'

'Of course it matters. God, can you hear yourself, Christophe? You sound like you wouldn't care even if you just drop dead here and now.' Kyle's voice rose, but it was hoarse like a whisper. 'We only die once. And we only live once. Nobody has the right to take that away from another person. I know we all die but, personally, I'd rather die later than sooner, and by natural causes too, not murder. How about you?'

To that, a small smile finally appeared on Christophe's chapped lips, and he rocked his head as if to nod.

'Yes. I wouldn't have it any other way. And I'll make sure of it.' Kyle grinned with relief and it didn't falter as Christophe drew him close with an arm around his shoulder. 'No matter what, I'll make sure you won't die any time soon, hmm?'

'No, I meant _you_ not me—' Kyle stopped, giving up trying to lecture the brunet, and sighed with a troubled grin. 'Well, I guess that's enough for now. Better one than none, huh? No matter how hypocritical you are, and I guess we all are to an extent. I just hope it never goes down to doing "no matter what", as you say. I don't want you killing anyone to save me.' Kyle almost chuckled at his own words and Christophe watched him with amusement.

'What, you don't think I can kill someone?'

A flash of Christophe chocking the life out of Derek passed his mind, and the grin that finally reached him faded away. But he shook the image away quickly.

'Do _you_ think you would be able to kill someone? Do you think you would be able to live the rest of your life with the burden of being a murderer?'

'I already am.' Kyle squinted in confusion, trying to make out Christophe's mutter. But before he could, Christophe continued and cut off Kyle's thoughts. 'I think I would be able to kill someone, maybe even anyone, if I had a good reason for doing so… And I think you could too.'

Kyle's eyes widened, but then slowly, his eyelids began to drop.

'There was a brief moment, between the fear and relief of when you saved me, that I wanted Derek dead. I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to die... It was a sudden thought created by fear and hatred, and the thought itself was as scary as anything. But then you began to strangle him, _really_ strangle him. You were killing him, and you made it look so easy. It scared me out of my hatred, Christophe. What you were trying to do to him.' Kyle's eyes flickered with doubt as they searched deep into Christophe's unrevealing eyes. 'Do you really think… I will be able to do that?'

Christophe didn't say anything. He nodded shallowly, in neither acceptance or denial. Kyle wasn't sure what he was thinking for Christophe revealed nothing on his face, but he chose not to ask.

.

Kyle had long forgotten the disappointed faces of his teachers when they found out that neither Kyle nor Gregory were going to continue their studies into university. How could two bright, gifted students not be interested in a top-level university (and help build the school's reputation)? But by the time they reached their final year, all three members of the "club" knew that university would be nothing more than a waste of time, money and energy. Thanks to his friends, Kyle now had good grips with his ability to hack and program better than anyone, and trusted that Gregory would get them through even the "adult world".

After graduation the three found an old, mossy apartment, a thin box made of brick, at the end of town for themselves. It was not much (although its avoidable location was carefully chosen by Gregory), but it was their own private sector, their own, and that made the horrible place shine. Apart from the one main office, they all had their own bedroom, which was bliss, except for maybe Christophe, who had managed to roll out his bed in the storage room. It was a good excuse to sneak into Kyle's double bed and even sleep on Gregory's carpet (which was more comfortable than _his_ room) when he wished. But there were some nights where he didn't sleep at all.

Kyle didn't question about his future: he never thought that far ahead. Once free from the influence of his parents, Kyle lost ambition and strive for success. Instead, Kyle didn't want much more than to stick with Christophe and Gregory as he always had, and did not doubt that it would be that way. And as it always had been, Kyle thought that Gregory would lead the way and Christophe would run beside him. But as they began to fit into their new home and forget the madness of their high school life, the peace and boredom made Kyle begin to wonder.

'_Have you ever wanted to kill someone?'_

No, that wasn't the right question. Of course Christophe wanted to kill someone before, he said so himself at school. He said that he would have done so if Kyle hadn't had stopped him.

As Kyle thought, his eyes naturally looked up to the sound of the pen tapping against Gregory's desk. But other than that rhythmic tapping, all was quiet. In his double bed, Christophe was in a deep, soundless sleep. The sun was high, past noon, but Christophe was still dreaming away as if he had just gone to bed. He was never a good sleeper, but after being freed from school his sleeping habits had gone haywire.

'_What happens in the night that wares you out?'_

Every night and then Kyle would notice that the house was free of Christophe, but he would always come back in the morning to sleep. At first Kyle wondered if it was a girl, but then wondered why it wouldn't be mentioned then. The image of the quick kiss they shared would flash in his mind, but he would quickly shake it off. If it was a girl, was he trying to be kind? As far as Kyle knew no one in the club even _knew_ a girl since elementary.

'Have you ever dated a girl?'

The tapping stopped, and now two blue eyes were looking curiously at him.

'No. Not since elementary.'

'So you're a virgin?'

Gregory frowned in confusion, and then smirked it off.

'I know _you_ are, since it was saved thanks to a certain someone.'

Kyle glared at the blond, but Gregory had already resumed his tapping.

'Is Chris a virgin?' The tapping paused. 'Is he dating a girl?'

A quiet scoff and a shake of the head was Gregory's response. The lack of an answer and mocking tone frustrated the redhead and he threw himself down onto the couch. The impact seemed to blow away the frustration at once, leaving only his previous wonder in him.

'Where does he go to at night, then?' The tapping stopped, but there was no answer. 'Why is he always so tired?'

The silence continued, and Kyle feeling weary knowing that he wouldn't get an answer, chose to change the subject altogether.

'How do you pay for the rent anyway? I mean, I can see the place'll be dirt-cheap, but still I haven't seen anyone make any kind of money here.'

'Don't you remember hacking into Kaneda's computer last week?'

'Oh yeah,' Kyle smirked cynically. 'That guy was a real sleazeball. Wait, that was for profit?'

'I was paid to find evidence that he was using his fundraising money unjustly. And pretty much every other favour I asked you to do for me was for profit.'

'How come I don't get any of it?' There was no suspicion in the question, just curiosity.

'You do.'

'Great!' Kyle exclaimed sarcastically, then held up his hand, showing his palm to Gregory in a challenging manner. Gregory merely glanced at this before turning his gaze back to his desktop.

'I've already paid you.'

'Umm… no you haven't.'

'I opened up a bank account for you and have been putting money into that.' When Gregory looked up at the silence Kyle was frowning, and he smiled. 'What? Don't you trust me?'

'Oh, fuck off.' Kyle spat, then fell back, lying on his couch. 'You're like my fucking father!'

So Gregory had opened up a bank account for him that he didn't have access to and couldn't use freely… Well, that's not what Gregory said exactly, but Kyle knew that was what he meant. What was the point in having a bank account that he couldn't use anyway?

In the silence, Kyle heard a subtle shuffling sound from his bedroom and remembered the French boy now sleeping in his bed. The reminder made Kyle wonder whether Christophe also had a bank account. Well, of course he did. If Gregory had made one for Kyle, there was no way that he wouldn't have done the same for Christophe. But if he had… what money was going into it? What was Christophe doing for Gregory and the club that would be for profit? He was certainly no hacker…

Kyle had been asked to hack into someone's computer and dig up dirt or proof that they _were_ dirty. Apparently, last time it was for profit, and it he had been doing it for some time, probably since they left school if not while they _were_ at school. So if Gregory was paying Kyle to do some hacking, then someone was paying Gregory to get the stuff, which meant that they were no longer a "club" but an "organisation". What, so Gregory was the manager, or some kind of pimp, Kyle was his employed hacker, and Christophe was… Kyle grimaced at the circulation of his thinking process. He was back to _that_ question again. Christophe was… what? His bitch?

Without even a clue, Kyle sighed, and then curled up closer to the back of his couch. With his face in the gap of the back and seat, it was suffocating and dark, but the claustrophobic space was calming. He felt like such a child. A fucking innocent, ignorant child (and virgin, so what? Piss off). Somehow, both Gregory and Christophe seemed so grown up and independent, what seemed to Kyle, secretive. Kyle wished that his curious nature would kick in and ask more questions, demand for answers, but something instinctive made him not so eager. …No. He will ask. He will ask… later. Someday. Just not right now.

.

A few weeks had passed and Kyle did a few jobs for Gregory. It was the usual hacking and programming, but knowing that he was being "paid" for it wasn't exactly a motivator, or rather it was a reminder of the _club_ now being an _organisation_ and that he didn't know anything about it. He had asked Christophe personally what it was he was doing at night, but he never received an answer other than: 'You don't want to know', which was ridiculous. 'Of course I want to know!' 'Okay… later.' Later, as in never, Kyle interpreted.

Kyle was home alone that day. It wasn't always that the house was left to him alone. Christophe was usually at home during the day sleeping or keeping it chill, but he was out for a walk apparently, and so with Gregory out as well, the house was as quiet as a graveyard. It was boring. Kyle was lying on his couch and staring at the ceiling, his fingers drumming against each other to a melody trapped inside his head. He remembered a conversation he had with his teacher at school.

'_But I did. I handed in my uni preferences like everybody else.'_

'_No. You handed in a blank piece of paper, Kyle.'_

'_That is my uni preference though! I don't want to go!'_

'_Kyle, don't you understand that this directly influences your future? You are a very, bright student. Going to university will open up so many possibilities for you; you don't want to just shut them all down now. Surely, you don't want your future to be like this?'_

'_What, a blank piece of paper?' The teacher confirmed with a still look and silence, but Kyle wasn't impressed. 'Isn't everyone's?'_

The drumming had stopped, and Kyle sighed with his wrist over his eyes. It wasn't just his future; his past, even his present was blank. He was living on a blank piece of paper placed on the ground, safe and sound while the world moved around him. He sighed again, soft but long. No matter how many times he sighed there still seemed to be too much air in his lungs, compressing his chest. It was quiet.

Kyle got up and stared at Gregory's chair, his desk, and then the desktop sitting on the vintage timber. Gregory was always there, looking through that screen and into a world Kyle didn't know. Did Christophe know that world? Of course he did, and he was part of it, Kyle knew without a doubt. The thing Kyle didn't know was why didn't _he_ know it? Wasn't he part of the club too?

'This is bullshit.'

How would you like to join our club? Bullshit. He was never in the club, only on the sidelines to give the members refreshments when needed. What a joke, to have followed them all this way to only occupy the couch like an untrained pet dog.

'Bullshit…'

Kyle got up and made his way towards Gregory's desk. His emerald eyes scanned over the desk and then checked the draw. Neat bastard. But when his eyes glanced up to the blank screen of Gregory's computer, he paused. In the end, from the beginning he knew that everything was in that box, everything he wanted to know. But now that he was there, about to crack into his own friend's computer, he didn't know if he should.

He returned back to his own computer and inhaled as he opened the lid up. Within a few seconds he sent an attached email and shut his computer back down. Now he only had one choice.

When Kyle returned back to Gregory's computer, his finger pressed the power on, the button flashed green, and in a few seconds the screen turned on with an annoying _beep_ and _vroom_. Within a long minute Kyle had reached his first wall, login and password, but the wall was so low Kyle could hop over it without any magic tricks. He had automatically memorised it by listening to Gregory type it in every day.

Kyle paused, listening closely to the air around him for a sound of life, and when he couldn't hear anything, he opened up Gregory's email and clicked on the new email from Kyle Broflovski. Would you like to upgrade your security system? Just open the attachment.

'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth,' Kyle hummed as he pressed on the attachment. 'Unless it's a Trojan horse.'

A minute later, without delay, Kyle deleted the email and turned off the computer. He returned back to his couch and welcomed his laptop back into his arms. When he opened it, he had all the access to Gregory's computer he needed. A cheeky grin spread across his lips as he hummed his way through Gregory's computer. All the information he needed to be a part of his friends was in his hands and he had forgotten the feeling of guilt under his excitement.

Gregory's computer was all work and no play. Kyle didn't necessarily expect to find any porn on there, but he didn't even find a single song. Suddenly, he realised that what he had been feeling was childish, that what he was doing was child's play, like a teenager looking under his friend's bed for porn. Instead of the humiliation he had always felt when he realised his ignorance, he felt ashamed. But he couldn't stop now.

There was a lot of information, mostly divided into folders named by people's names. He noticed that a lot of that information was found by him, found and given to Gregory without much thought at the time. But now that he looked at them as a whole, he felt uncomfortable, even anxious for some undetectable reason. He somehow felt the feeling most as he accessed Gregory's email, mostly deleted and untraceable by anyone but him.

'Huh?'

It was like reading fiction, but without understanding any of it. Kyle felt as if Christophe and Gregory had planned what he was doing, and that they were playing a long, sadistic prank on him. His scrolling through the emails became faster and faster until he could hardly catch any words at all. When he finished, his eyes were hollow and he sat there quietly.

All the emails were different, but it was as if they were all following a template. There was a quick intro, a name, and a question: will you do it? The phrase that caught his attention was "Need someone taken care of", like a cliché in an old mafia movie. Although he had smirked when he read it the first time, he forgot to when he read the rest. But it was all a joke. It had to be. Kyle shut his computer and lied on his couch, his eyes forgetting to blink.

Then what was it that Christophe sometimes did at night?

'_Do you think you would be able to kill someone? Do you think you would be able to live the rest of your life with the burden of being a murderer?' _

Kyle had once asked that question to Christophe, but he wasn't able to catch his answer. He never thought too much of it, but now, he wondered what it was he had said. But did it really matter? A small answer to a question asked over a year ago? It couldn't make a difference whether he had caught the answer or not. Right, Christophe?

'_What, you don't think I can kill someone?' _

Kyle heard Christophe's voice in his memory. He remembered what he felt when Christophe asked him that question, he remembered what memory had passed his mind, but at that time, he was unable to voice an answer to that question.

'No. I don't…' Kyle heard his own voice say. It sounded so foreign.

.

When Gregory returned back home the sound of a fresh crunch entered his ears and he found Kyle lying plainly on his couch slowly eating an apple. The waxed skin shone a deep bright red and it was as if it were dyeing Kyle's lips that were munching on it.

'Hey,' the redhead said tonelessly once he noticed Gregory standing at the doorway.

'Hi,' Gregory answered, realising that he forgot to move for that one second. The clucking of his oxford heels seemed loud as he turned to hang his coat and scarf on the hanger. For some reason Gregory felt uncomfortable. A sense of hesitation was in his movements and his chest had both warmth and chill. He didn't know why, but the atmosphere around Kyle seemed so unusual. 'Are you all right?'

'Sure. I'm cool.' His answer ended with another crunch of the apple, and a heavy silence continued. Gregory still felt somehow uneasy, but he made his way to his desk and sat down like usual. Kyle watched from the corner of his eye. Gregory didn't seem to have noticed anything.

The apple was almost gone and it wasn't pretty. His fingers were sticky from the juice and the bitten meat of the apple seemed to be already rotting away to a repulsive brown, but there was still a bit of bright red skin left at the top and bottom, although Kyle kept to observing it than to eat it off.

'Hey, Gregory?' Kyle began, 'What would you do if I killed someone?'

Kyle could tell that Gregory had frozen without even looking, and it was dreadful, somehow even terrifying. But the feeling evaporated with a soft smirk from the blond.

'I'll tell you to dispose all evidence and pretend it never happened.'

Kyle sighed the tension out of him with a soft chuckle, and now feeling relieved, turned to his side and watched Gregory teasingly from his couch.

'What would you do if you killed someone?'

'I won't. I'll make someone else do it.'

Kyle laughed.

'And what would you do if Chris killed someone?'

The air turned still again. Gregory didn't answer with a smirk. His lips seemed heavy and so did his eyelids and the blue in his eyes. And when he finally spoke, the same compressed feeling in Kyle's chest had returned.

'I'll tell him to dispose all evidence and pretend it never happened.'

For a long minute Kyle didn't move or speak. His eyes stayed glued on Gregory, watching the blond taste the answer on his tongue, until he met Gregory's eyes. Kyle quickly averted his gaze and gulped. The familiar sound of Gregory's light tapping of his keyboard entered his ears, but still it was hard to breathe. He got up off his couch with his laptop and made his way swiftly to his bedroom.

'Wait—' Kyle paused, like a squint by Gregory's call. 'Why the questions?'

Kyle's eyes fluttered around before he turned the doorknob to his room.

'I watched a stupid movie. Thriller.'

The door closed behind him.

He took a long breath as he leaned against his door, and as the air left his lungs, so did the chill, and what he felt as he breathed in was a small simmer. He rushed to his bed and dropped on it with his computer, opening it as he did. He clicked on Gregory's computer and opened up one of the newest and only emails not deleted. He had merely skimmed through it an hour ago, but this time as he read it he read it carefully. It was one of the strangest emails he had ever read in that it was so short.

_My name is Alex_

_I've heard of what you do_

_Brian White_

_Will you do it_

Kyle read it over again but he could only blink. Was the email a mistake? Gregory wasn't Brian White. But then again, the name Brian White seemed familiar. Yet Kyle's thoughts stopped as he clicked on Gregory's reply that was sent the next day, but this was even stranger:

_Why_

God, was this even a serious negotiation? He was suspicious that Gregory wasn't using more formal and lengthy language. It was like they were talking on chat, not even bothering to use proper grammar. But if it was even possible, Alex's reply to that was even stranger:

_Ian Smith_

_Samuel Craig_

_Alexander Stones_

Kyle's face was almost comically strained with confusion. But the final email from Gregory made it disappear in an instant, for it was the strangest of all:

_Yes_

Kyle sat there staring at that single word with nowhere to go with it. But still what tickled his gut was the same familiarity of the names. It took him a few seconds but he remembered: he had done some quick research on them as Gregory's favour only a couple of days ago. And then he remembered that he had found out a couple of similarities between the three people in Alex's email. First, was that they all attended St. Sebastian's Academy in the eighties. And second, was that they had all died over the last twenty years. Kyle frowned, and then looked at the name Brian White. He remembered that name too. He was a priest at St. Sebastian's Academy in the eighties, and that made them all connected, only, White was still alive.

_Will you do it?_

_Yes._

What was _it_? What had Gregory agreed to _do_? Kyle had an idea, and it was connected to Christophe. He had an idea, but he couldn't believe it. Kyle slowly lied himself on his bed; his face was expressionless. He had an idea, he couldn't believe it, but he did. He was being held back by denial and logic, only, that he had already experienced illogic enough to know that logic was only a way of running from the chaos of reality.

But he would find out. No matter what, he was determined to find out the truth, not knowing that if he did, it would open the door to a brand new deep dark world.

Knock, knock.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: 12.7

His name was Brian White but he was called Father, or Father White by most. He had a folder named after him on Gregory's computer, and inside there were another few folders, all labelled with the names of people "Alex" had emailed to him. The folders were made on the day Gregory received the second email from "Alex", and was filled with information that Kyle had found and notes that Gregory had made. As Kyle read through the information he realised that what he had found were merely jigsaw puzzles, and that Gregory had pieced them together into one horrible truth.

Kyle felt his stomach shrivel up into the shadow of his ribs. He had been hearing about it on the news and on the radio but that was as realistic as reading a novel. But now the same information was in front of him, so close and real that the only thing that kept him away was denial. He felt fear and hate fuelled by righteousness, but it all burnt out in a minute. He still didn't know if they had all died because of this one person.

He tried to keep himself calm and called the number he had found on Gregory's computer, on a mission to find out his own truth.

.

'Isaac Green?'

Kyle looked up from his Harbucks stool to find a tall woman in her thirties looking down at him. She had a strong jaw framed with waves of sandy-blond hair and she was smiling a smile that didn't make it to her grey eyes. She looked kind enough, but suspicious at the same time.

'Yes?' Kyle confirmed the name that he had come up with an hour ago. The woman's smile grew and she took the seat in front of Kyle without bothering to ask.

'You know, I wasn't sure for a second if I had the right guy. But you're the only redhead drinking green tea, so, _voila_.'

Kyle sipped his iced green tea latte loudly as he observed the lady before putting it down on the table.

'No offense, but I thought you would be a man, Ms. Alex.'

The woman grinned.

'Alex is short for Alexandra. Alexandra Sykes. My twin brother's Alex too. It drove people mad. Our parents were fucking idiots.'

Kyle's sipping grew louder as he reached the end of his drink. All that was left was a cup full of ice. Rip off, Kyle grunted and opened the lid and poured a few ice cubes into his mouth, and regretted it in a second. The woman shook her head softly.

'Why did you call me?'

Her voice seemed so heavy, without being too deep. Kyle suddenly felt like such a child, again.

'I just wanted to ask a few questions.'

'What, I thought you people agreed on the job. Your boss did, at least.'

'My boss?'

'Yes. Gregory, I think.' Kyle frowned. Alex watched for a few seconds Kyle stayed quiet. 'So, what do you want to ask me?'

'What? Oh, yeah. Um— I just wanted to ask, how— how are you sure that this Brian White, is really responsible for the deaths of those three people? I don't understand, I mean, they have all died randomly over the past twenty years by different causes and only one of them actually committed su—'

The smile had completely gone from Alex's face as she listened to Kyle. She didn't interrupt him, but her eyes were enough to make him lose his voice in the middle of his sentence.

'Look, I don't know what your boss has told you, but I'm guessing your brain is not as good as your looks.' Kyle felt taken aback by Alex's unexpected words, but didn't interrupt. She drew in closer, her voice quieter, but heavier and more piercing than before. 'I know what it feels like. You're a man, still a child, but a man. How could you possibly understand what it feels like to be violated? Not while you haven't experienced it.'

Kyle felt a fierce grip clutch his stomach; its long nails digging into his flesh. For a second he felt a shuddering fear, and cold, and realised that he had just been reminded of a memory from a couple of years ago.

'You're right, I haven't…' Kyle said softly. 'I was saved just in time.'

Alex froze with wide eyes, and then she leaned back away from Kyle as she lost the angry tension in her body. A long silence grew between them, but it seemed like the defensive walls between each other had opened up for that moment.

'You noticed that they had all went to the same Catholic school in elementary?' Alex began. Her face was quiet, but her eyes were beginning to glisten pink. Kyle nodded. 'He was a priest there in the eighties. Father White, they called him. It was an all-boys school so I wasn't there and I never knew him personally. But I knew what he did. He was a fucking animal, a child molester. I don't know how he, or they probably wherever the fuck they are, kept their victims quiet. I was told that they make them go through confession after it's done or something, threat them of Hell, or threat them however else. Maybe they don't even need to do any of that since they always choose the isolated ones. I don't know how many children he raped, but I know three that have died over the years because of the trauma of what he had done.'

'The three names you gave Gregory? But how do you know that they were because of him?'

'Because one of them was my brother.' Kyle shuddered. 'Alexander, or Alex for short. Alex Stone, like me before I got married. He was, probably nine or so, when it happened. He didn't tell anyone, he was alone since we were sent to different schools, but he didn't even me until it just became too much. And then I made the most stupid promise of my life with him, to never tell anyone. And I kept it, until now at least. But what difference does it make now? He's dead. But I'm not doing this because three people have consequently died. Al's death was just a trigger. Because what he had done—'

Alex rolled her lips and breathed one shuddering breath before she continued.

'It happened to me, in a completely different situation though, after I grew up. And still it was a living hell for long after it actually happened. Imagine what that would do to a child? I can't. But I've seen it.' It hurt enough only listening to the words, making Kyle shake his head unconsciously. He couldn't even imagine what it felt like to say them. 'Al —Alex— killed himself. Two years ago, leaving a wife and two kids. Almost thirty years later he finally ended it all himself… And now, he's not here anymore to stop me. But what do I have on White now except for the memory of my tortured brother?'

She coughed a laugh but pain was leaking out of her eye and running down her cheek, being wiped away by a finger.

'It's not— exactly for revenge, what I'm doing. Probably a bit, I can't deny that. But then again, I wouldn't have asked you— your boss, whatever— if he hadn't come back to this town.' Kyle frowned in confusion and Alex nodded. 'He left this town a little before Al graduated. Travelled all around America probably, but now he has come back, still a fucking priest as ever. Maybe even doing what he still does best.'

She eyed Kyle, but all Kyle could do was try to breathe.

'Is that all you wanted to ask?'

Slowly, Kyle began to undo his frozen body and nodded.

'Yes. Thank you—'

'I'll be the one thanking you, if this is still going ahead.' He looked at Kyle again, expectantly. But Kyle didn't know how to respond, and she continued, 'So? Is it?'

'Oh, um— sure.'

'When will it be done?'

'Soon. I guess…'

'Okay.' She said it more to herself than to Kyle. But she looked up one last time with a little light in her face. 'I hope it's not you who is going to do it though. I don't know how old you are, but you're pretty as a girl, or maybe a child. Either way, I wouldn't go near that molester if I were you.'

Kyle couldn't laugh, whether Alex had intended it to be a joke or not. Alex smiled and took out her hand, stretching it out to Kyle who looked at it blankly.

'It was nice talking to you Isaac, if that's even your name.'

'Yeah, sorry. Me too.' Kyle took Alex's hand and shook it. Alex smiled one more time before she left. Kyle stood there for a second, watching the spot that Alex had been a moment ago. Everything felt so surreal, so tragic.

.

It wasn't that Kyle had doubted Alex's story. Her pain was real. It was just that he had to make sure with his own eyes that this Father White was what she said he was, and if he still was even now. In his head, Kyle had completely forgotten about his original goal, which was to find out the truth about this "organisation" Gregory had built their club up to, and what part Christophe played in it. Now, it was only him and the truth.

Kyle felt it hard to swallow as he looked up at the church. He hadn't been to a church in almost ten years since he went with his friends in South Park. He never felt the necessity to, as a Jew. But that wasn't what made him nervous. It was more the fact that he was about to talk to a (maybe) serial child molester, and make sure if he was really one.

'God help me.'

Kyle kicked the stairs to the entrance door and slipped inside. He felt a little taken aback when the door shut behind him; the sound echoed heavily and longer than he expected, taking away a bit of the mental preparation he had made outside. The fact that no one was inside didn't help either. There were rows of chairs, with not a single soul occupying them. The air seemed colder, but maybe it only felt that way because of the echoing of every single detailed sound. He felt naked.

'Hello?' Kyle gasped out of his daze at the sudden voice. A priest, obviously by the way he dressed and smiled, was walking straight at him with soft strides. His hair was pearl and grey bolding from the forehead to the back, leaving a fluffy hump of hair on the sides of his head. He wasn't dreadfully tall, but taller than Kyle and much plumper, but Kyle wouldn't mind charging at him too much if it was necessary. It took him aback though that Kyle hadn't noticed him until he was called in the echoing chamber. 'Do you need any help?'

'No— I mean, yes, actually. I just… I needed to talk to someone.'

'Well, you know that God will always listen to those who are willing to talk.'

Kyle felt a little uncomfortable, whether it was because of the priest's unmoving smile or his voice or words, or a combination of all. He gave a little troubled smile.

'Actually I— beg my pardon, but could you be Father White?'

'Yes. Yes I am,' the man said with an even wider grin if that was possible. Kyle tensed but hid it under his smile.

'Well, I actually came to talk to you.'

'Oh? And what might _your_ name be?'

'Um—' Kyle somehow felt uncomfortable saying the Jewish name he came up with that morning for his meeting with Alex. 'Kyle,' fuck, he said the name that first popped up in his head: his own name. 'Marsh.' Double fuck.

'Kyle Marsh?' Kyle grimaced at those names put together. Why _his_ last name out of everything? 'What's wrong? Don't you like your name?'

'No! It's fine—' Except for _Marsh_. Kyle hiccupped and put his smile back on.

'Well, Kyle. What is it you would like to talk to me about?' Father White smiled. This is it, Kyle told himself and rolled his lips once and breathed.

'Well, I just wanted some advice, you see? I was told this secret from a friend and I promised that I wouldn't tell anyone. But the thing is, if I don't tell anyone then someone bad will be un-punished.' White kept silent in thought, so Kyle edged on, sounding hopeless, 'I just don't know what to do.'

White smiled gently at Kyle as if he had finished his thinking.

'Well, in that case I have no right to tell you what to do. Only you can know what's right for you to do, even if that's for another person. You just need to ask yourself what is more important: helping your friend or punishing the wicked.'

'But how will not doing anything help my friend?' Kyle asked, feeling more for the scenario that he had come up with than intended.

'Sometimes Kyle, keeping a promise is the best help a friend can get.'

Kyle frowned, and looked down from White's smiling face. He seemed so gentle, and wise too. His words weighed on him and grasped him so simply, even though he was advising a problem that he didn't have in the first place. How could such a person be a child molester? Maybe Alex was mistaken…

'Thank you Father.' Kyle looked up, and he smiled.

'I am glad to be able to help. Come again soon.'

Kyle nodded as he turned for the exit, although he had no intention of coming back. But after he took a couple of steps he stopped and turned back, he wasn't exactly sure what made him, but he opened his mouth:

'St. Sebastian's Academy.'

His voice wasn't loud, but it made Father White's smile quiver in confusion.

'What did you say?'

'Nothing I— I just wondered if that meant anything to you.'

'No, I've never heard of it.'

'Oh.' Kyle looked down, about to turn away again, until he looked up one last time. 'Ian Smith. Samuel Craig.' White's smile slightly loosened.

'What—'

'Alexander,' Kyle interrupted firmly with the final name, 'or Alex, Stone.'

Father White had completely lost his smile and was looking at Kyle with complete disbelief. Kyle too, had lost his smile as well. Alex was right— He could see now, she was right about Father White, because it wasn't just his lost smile, it was in his eyes. Kyle felt a hint of fear in his stomach as he stared at White's unblinking eyes. He rocked a few steps back, and then Father White took a few forward. The next step, Kyle turned and ran out the church as fast as he could.

He didn't stop even when the doors banged shut behind him. His breath was quick and heavy, both from the panic and the running, but he didn't stop. Not until he was at least a couple of blocks away from the church. He leaned down with his hands on his knees and breathed, trying to calm down. Alex was right— Alex was right— He kept on telling himself, and then it suddenly came to him: what the fuck was Gregory doing with such an affair? Unless what he had suspected, was true.

.

Kyle was walking in circles around the room with footsteps to the beat of his heart. He had been doing so for quite some time; he had tried to keep still and sit down, but his heartbeat was too loud when he did. He told himself that he was thinking, but in reality it was almost a form of denial or a distraction from the unrealistic reality. 'It can't be' was muttered a few dozen times, as well as 'This is crazy', 'It's a joke' and the most of all, 'Fuck'.

He agreed to himself that White was a nutcase, completely bonkers as he heard Gregory sometimes say. He seemed to hide it well, but Kyle saw it clearly before he ran away, that White had a dangerous fire lit up in his eyes after Kyle had said those three names Alex had given him— or Gregory, more specifically. Kyle shuddered at the thought of what might have happened to him if he hadn't have ran away.

Okay, so the guy is a criminal, a fucking monster, but—

'Alex hiring Gregory to have him killed? Or fucking "taken care of"? Seriously? This is crazy, it can't be. It's a fucking joke. I mean, can you even hear yourself, Kyle? Fuck! That's fucking crazy. It's a joke. It must be— I mean, Alex hiring Gregory to have White "taken care of"?'

It didn't seem right as a serious sentence, no matter how many times Kyle said it out loud. It seemed like a shallow plot twist to a novel. The club that Gregory had once made, now an organisation of crime? Please. Please… Kyle sat down with his face in his hands.

'Christophe—' Kyle looked up in realisation of his murmuring of his friend's name. Christophe—

His bedroom door opened, making Kyle jump out of his thoughts. And to the magical timing, it was Christophe that came into the room.

'I'm sleeping here tonight.' The brunet declared, kicking his shoes off. Kyle didn't even bother to respond to the every-day announcement, but watched as the half-naked Christophe slipped into the left side of his bed. 'Merde! Kyle, I forgot to turn the lights off.'

'I know,' Kyle mumbled as he got up to turn the lights off. He had enough thinking time, he was ready to shut his brain off. He kicked his way through the dark and dropped himself onto the empty spot beside the Frenchman.

It was dark, but he was close enough to Christophe that he could see the silhouette of his back moving with his breaths. He moved an inch closer, and then tilted his head to lean his forehead against the skin of Christophe's back. He knew that Christophe liked it when he touched him.

'Hey, Christophe?' Kyle whispered. The brunet made a sound of recognition. Kyle tensed his lips with the confliction of wanting to say and wanting to not, but he finally did after a long breath. 'What do you do for Gregory?' Kyle could feel Christophe tense through his back, and then he began to turn, and now Christophe was facing Kyle with their faces barely an inch apart. 'I gather information for him, when he asks me to. Sometimes even illegally, because I hack into other computers. But you already know that.' Kyle said as an example.

'But you don't know what I do.'

'That's right. And I do want to know. Just in case you haven't figured that out yet.'

Christophe stayed quiet for a second. Kyle's eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark and he could see the light moist in Christophe's eyes in the silence.

'It's best that you don't know.' Christophe said his usual phrase as a matter-of-factly, but gently enough even as Kyle frowned. 'Kyle… We're like the human body, Gregory and I. He's the brain, and I'm the body.'

'And I'm not part of the human body?' Kyle leaned back an inch from Christophe's face, almost offended, and disappointed by his words. Christophe pulled his lips in attempt to smile, and rested his hand gently on Kyle's cheek as he combed his fingers through his curls.

'You are the heart. You pump clean, fresh blood through us. We can't have you be infected.' He suggested a wider smile. 'And you're also a great provider of information.'

Kyle didn't smile. Despite Christophe's (attempt for a) romantic metaphor, all that Kyle heard was 'You're not properly part of the group, so we're not going to tell you anything'. But if Kyle tried, he could have probably lived with that. But not while he suspected that what Christophe was hiding was dark and dangerous, and not while he couldn't image the true horror of it.

Kyle sighed, as if to show that he was letting go, and he could see Christophe relax in relief.

'Fine. Keep your secrets.' Kyle turned in his bed with his back to Christophe to get in a more comfortable position to sleep. 'You can keep the bed too.'

'What?' Kyle heard Christophe say in the dark behind him. He knew that Christophe had his eyes round by his words, and he knew that he had got his grip on him. 'You can share this bed with me from now on, if you want. You don't have to go back to that fucking cupboard you call a room, or camp on Gregory's carpet.' There was no answer. Kyle frowned in confusion and twisted his body to look over his shoulder at the brunet. 'Christophe?' He was smiling.

'I thought you would offer me the couch before you would offer me your bed.'

'In your dreams I'll offer you my couch!' Kyle spat, making the brunet chuckle. 'Unless you don't want to, and I'm fine with that too.'

'No. I am delighted.' Christophe answered, still smiling.

'Okay then. Just tell me when you won't be sleeping here. I don't want to worry about where you might be.'

'Worry?'

'I just—' Kyle felt his cheeks heat up, 'want to know when I'll be having my bed to myself, that's all.'

He heard Christophe smirk softly again, and looked up to find Christophe's face above his, only inches away.

'In that case, I will be out tomorrow.'

'Just tomorrow?'

Christophe smiled.

'You worry too much.'

And before Kyle knew it, their lips were together. He froze and stared with wide eyes, only being able to move once Christophe had fell back into his spot. He noticed his burning face and glared at the brunet, but his glare was welcomed by a soft snore from Christophe. He lost his tension, but unfortunately not the heat without the opportunity to fight it out.

'Remind me to stop you next time,' Kyle muttered to the brunet who had gone out like a light, and then sank himself deep into the mattress with his back to him again. It came with a kiss, but Kyle had got what he had wanted. Christophe was going out tomorrow night. Out, no doubt, to do his "job". To "take care of" that fucking freak. Kyle's expression firmed as he told himself that he was finally going to see what part Christophe played in the organisation with his own eyes.

* * *

**A.N- Thank you for reading, and thank you for reviewing again SJ and Maddy! Only one more to go. What a short journey huh? Vroom!**


	6. Chapter 6

'_Even after eating the forbidden fruit_

_I felt not ashamed._

_It was me who had killed God_

_And it is me who will be killed by God.'_

_-amazarashi "Anomie"_

Chapter Six: 13.5

Under the covers of his bed Kyle was still wearing his day clothes, ready to slip out of the house once he got his shoes on. It was not even ten yet, but Kyle had declared that he had a long day and no one questioned it. Finally as he waited patiently for over an hour, Kyle could hear through the gaps of his window that someone had left the house, and he knew who it was even without listening to the heavy footsteps of his boots. Christophe had gone out, and it wasn't for a midnight stroll.

Kyle leaned up, letting the cover slide off his body, and slipped out of his bed to get his shoes on. He didn't know exactly where Christophe had gone, but he knew _who_ his final destination was. Kyle knew where he had to go, but he couldn't deny the anxiety in his stomach when he thought of meeting White again. He grabbed a pocketknife from under his bed and put it in his back pocket, just for precaution and to lessen his anxiety, and left his room.

Damn— the light was still on in the office. But fortunately Gregory wasn't in the room. He heard a small clutter from downstairs and guessed that the blond had gone to make a coffee or tea or something. As swiftly and quietly as he could, Kyle rushed down the stairs and jumped out of the house without breathing, only taking a deep breath once the cold outside air engulfed him. Gregory had not seemed to have noticed.

It took him a fifteen-minute bus ride and a twenty-minute walk to get him to the church. He knew that there would be no more busses for his return, but he did not care to give a thought to that. He just hoped that he would find Christophe, and that Christophe wouldn't find him.

At the last minute, Kyle wondered whether the church would be open so late at night. He could detect a few lights glowing in the window, but the bright streetlight making the church glow distracted him. He hopped up the stairs and tried the door, and fortunately, it opened.

The church was dark inside, but comfortable to a follower, probably, only lit by a couple of dim orange lights hanging from the ceiling. Kyle wasn't sure about them though. It made the chairs, the stand, and Jesus hanging on his cross adopt an eerie shadow. There was no one there though. Kyle wasn't sure what to do, so he slipped into one of the chairs and leaned his arms into the back of the one in front of him. He sighed and looked around, and then entwined his fingers and hanged his head down as if in a prayer.

'I'm a Jew, praying in a church, waiting for a child molester be "taken care of" by a friend. God, this isn't awkward. Not at all—'

At that second he heard the door open and he swang his head up. In the dark ahead he could see a shadow, but it quickly drew into the light, making Kyle's heart thump.

'Hi Father.' White stopped at Kyle's voice, but quickly put on a smile.

'Ah. Kyle. It's great to see you again, and so soon. It's a bit late though, are you okay?'

'Yeah,' Kyle smiled, 'I just decided what to do, so I came here without much thinking. I thought you would be sleeping, so, I wanted to at least pray here if I couldn't talk to you in person. But you're here so I guess I can tell you now.

'Tell me what?' The man's smile tensed in his eyes.

'I just wanted to thank you because your advice really helped. I thought about what was more important: to keep a promise with my friend or to stop a bad guy and have him punished.'

'And what did you choose?' His smile was slowly loosening on his face, but Kyle's was only growing.

'I'm going to tell the secret, even if it means breaking a promise. I mean, I can't keep a criminal from not being punished, especially when I know the truth. Don't you think so? I thought that maybe, you would like to know.' Kyle stood up as White watched him, his smile gone. 'Thank you, Father. And good night.'

He turned to leave feeling a little more confident than when he had come in. He had come to make sure that White was still alive and ended up with the bonus of making him feel uneasy. And besides, White didn't look as intimidating as he thought. His eyes looked desperate and powerless, not angry. Kyle's footsteps echoed without hesitation, but when he lent his ear to his footsteps, he noticed that another pair was echoing too. He looked back in confusion, and he thought he saw the holy bible.

He heard himself hit the ground. For a moment he could hear heavy breathing before he was grabbed by the legs and dragged until he was thrown up onto someone's shoulder. He couldn't move or speak, or even see properly. Everything was fuzzy, blinded by the light in his head or the shadow of the night.

When Kyle woke up, he felt a mind-numbing smell in the back of his nose and immediately guessed it to be wine. Why would he smell wine? He didn't know, but that was what felt like that woke him up. The temperature was cool, but not freezing as it was outside; it was more of an artificial coolness. When his vision began to clear and focus, he found out why that was, and at the same time, was taken by confusion. He was lying in a cellar, a wine cellar. Kyle tried to lean up to have a better look in the dim light, and his heart strained with panic. He was lying in a cellar with his hands tied behind him as well as his feet.

God! He cried, Damn it! But it only came out as a moan. His mouth was taped as well. He moaned more and loudly as he tugged at his hands but he simply remained panicked and helpless until the door finally opened above him. He cringed at the sudden light but rolled over to see, and felt a sudden uncomfortableness in his back pocket. His eyes widened, and then thinned. White began to come down into the cellar.

'Such a shame…' White murmured once his feet had landed beside Kyle. 'If you were weak and cowardly like everybody else than I wouldn't have to have hurt you. I don't like hurting people.'

Kyle groaned behind his tape disapprovingly as he glared at the priest. White sounded generally sad and remorseful, but Kyle couldn't care less if he was laughing at the top of his lungs as he watched him squirm.

'Don't look so mad. Would you like to say your prayers? Is that what you want? I'll let you, you know. I let people say their prayers.'

He leaned down and gently tore the tape away from Kyle's mouth. Kyle hissed, but it didn't hurt as much as he thought he would, although his eyes were watering when he opened them again.

'Oh look. Your lips are all swollen…' Kyle couldn't say anything, but leaned back as White extended his hand to brush his fingers against his lips. His heart seemed to be thumping in his throat, blocking out any words from coming out. He could hear White's shallow breath and see his shaking pupils. 'Such a shame…' White repeated as he caressed Kyle's skin. 'How old are you?'

'I'm not a fucking kid you child molesting fuck!' Kyle spat. White tensed and wiped away a spit that flicked onto his cheek, but he still seemed calm and collected.

'I don't normally touch a boy so grown… But then again, you are so young. So soft and pretty. Even for your age, you are so young.'

Kyle shuddered again as he felt White's hand slide against his neck, and then his collarbone. He felt almost paralysed, but his heart was about to explode. It felt familiar. This fear, this darkness, he felt like he knew it.

'Chris—' Kyle breathed as he edged away from White's touch and felt a cold wall behind him. He sat up and leaned against the wall, still looking White straight in the eye. Christophe wasn't going to help him this time, that much he knew. This time, he had to help himself. Kyle's fingers subtly slid into his back pocket and he felt a smooth metal: it was the small pocketknife he prepared for himself earlier. He scissored it subtly under White's gaze and slowly dragged it out of his pocket.

'You know, if I'm going to say my last prayer, I'll rather do it alone.' Kyle said defiantly, although he could feel his breath shaking with fear. He was glaring into White's eyes, and then he could see a slight change in its colours.

'You can say them later—'

White leaned in and covered Kyle's mouth with his. Kyle froze and gagged in disgust, but he regained himself in a second and began to give himself into White. He opened his mouth a little more willingly than he liked, and switched his mind to his hands behind him. He had managed to open the pocketknife without being noticed and began to saw at the duck tape around his wrists as quietly as he could. He cringed as the knife dug into his skin, but continued on with watering eyes. Come on… Come on… He chanted in his head with each little saw, until the tape finally cut in half and broke his hands free.

Kyle pushed at White with his strong, free hands, sending him tumbling back onto his back. Swiftly, he flicked the blade through the tape around his ankles as well and jumped up onto his feet. He forgot his fear and run to the ladder, until a fierce hand grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him down. The pocketknife flew out of his hand, but his ankle flew free too. Without looking back he climbed up the ladder and ran out through unfamiliar rooms, looking for the exit. He could hear White climbing out in the distance, making him panic, but at the same time his eyes caught the front door and he dashed straight for it.

The piercing cold air attacked him and to the side he noticed the church he had entered probably not too long ago. He looked around the street, but there were only a handful of cars parked and no people around in the quiet street. He heard White's footsteps and kicked his heals without much thought of where to go. He crossed the street and White followed behind him, and with the single second he took to look back, he saw his pocketknife in White's hands. He was going to be killed. If he was caught, he was going to be killed. Kyle took the next gap left into an alleyway, but at that moment a hand grabbed his collar by the back.

'No one will come,' White muttered as if to himself as he pinned Kyle against the brick wall by the neck. There was no sign of "shame" in his eyes anymore, just simple desperateness. Kyle saw his pocketknife gleam in the dark in White's left hand. 'No one will know.' White's eyes were red and glistening. 'They never do—'

The knife tore through the air, aiming at Kyle's neck, but Kyle caught White's wrist an inch before the blade hit his skin. His wrists were bloody from his own blood and the red had been trickling down to his arms. It was painful, but Kyle couldn't feel it. White pulled his hand back and skewed it at Kyle again, but this time Kyle caught it with both hands. They tugged at the knife furiously and Kyle could feel more blood leaking out of him with the pressure. Blood trickled down his wrist and seeped in between white's hand and knife. His fingers slipped, and the knife went into Kyle's hand.

Desperateness had taken Kyle this time. White's hand was still pinning him to the wall by his neck and he was beginning to lose clarity. He swang knife back and forth through the air to back White off, but a second hand grabbed at his neck, and this time, they squeezed. He stopped swinging the knife and choked on the closing gap in his throat. He was losing vision and hearing and touch, all disappearing behind the sound of his pulse in his ears. His hand rose up in the distance and swang one last time before he lost all his strength, and he let the knife slide out of his fingers and clutter to the ground.

He watched the small pocketknife with hollow eyes turning to black, knowing that that was going to be the last image he would see in his life. He watched it, and then he thought he saw a hand pick it up. And then he thought he heard someone call his name.

Kyle hit the ground and grunted in pain. Air burnt through his throat as he coughed for more. It felt like each gasp for breath was sending in new energy into him and giving him a new painful life. He began to see and hear again, begin to feel and think. And as he leaned up he realised what had been happening to him until a second ago, and he swang his gaze up.

Fear froze him. White was floating in the air on the tip of his toes, hanging by a set of hard hands grasping his neck. This was not right. That was meant to be Kyle, that was Kyle a few seconds ago hanging with his toes barely touching the ground, but now it was White. And when Kyle looked closely his face collapsed in horror. There was a knife sticking out of White's neck.

No one was choking him any more, but he couldn't breathe or make a voice. His lips quivered and his eyes watered as he stared without blinking, petrified. The knife slowly moved against White's neck as the hands continued to choke, until it finally jiggled out of the meat, muscle and skin and cluttered to the ground as blood spluttered out like a fountain. But the hands didn't stop. They continued to squeeze even stronger than before, ripping the neck further apart, and they only stopped finally when Kyle felt himself being ripped apart.

The body fell to the ground but Kyle wasn't looking at him any more. He was looking at the other man, the man who was choking him and ripped him apart. He was the man that saved Kyle's life. But he was more horrifying and terrible than anything Kyle had ever seen. It was a demon that killed the villain, and Kyle knew who it was.

'Tu vas bien?' The man asked as he took his cigarette out from between his lips and ran to Kyle. Kyle couldn't answer, but simply stared at his saviour. Something had disappeared from his eyes, like a candle being blown out in the wind. He felt himself being grasped by strong arms that were caring, yet desperate enough to squeeze him too tight it hurt.

'Why the fuck are you here, Kyle?' Christophe shouted under his breath as he hugged Kyle for dear life. 'Why the fuck are you here?'

'I'm sorry…' Kyle whispered as light began to return to his eyes. They glistened until the water finally ran down his cheeks. 'I'm so sorry!'

He hugged Christophe back, not caring if the brunet broke him from holding him too tight. He regretted everything he had thought a second ago. Christophe wasn't a demon. He wasn't horrifying or terrible. It was Kyle that had made him that way, for the second Christophe killed that priest. For the second he saved Kyle's life.

.

Kyle hadn't said a single word since Christophe had taken him home. Gregory stared in disbelief when Christophe had come home with an injured Kyle silent with his eyes wide with shock. Kyle had never seen Gregory so absent of his usual calm, even if it was for a second that he had opened the door to let them in. Christophe had left Kyle in Gregory's care as he went to take a shower. Gregory didn't say anything. In silence he bandaged Kyle's wrists and gave him a pack of frozen pees for the lump on his head that White had created with the holy bible.

Finally after he finished, Gregory sighed long and hard as he went back to his chair, filling the room with a human voice.

'Oh, Kyle…' He said. Kyle blinked and fluttered his eyes at Gregory's voice but didn't respond to it. But Gregory continued to stare at Kyle, his eyes tired. 'How did you get yourself into this?'

Kyle reached for his computer sitting on the coffee table and opened it up. He began typing, and Gregory's computer woke up from its sleep. The blond blinked in confusion and looked at the screen. His word processing program had opened up automatically, and Gregory's eyes widened as a single word began to be typed up on its own.

" y"

'You hacked into my computer?' Kyle kept silent as Gregory hissed in disbelief. 'For God's sake Kyle…'

They sat there, both in silence for another long time. The cold was beginning to hurt his head more than anything and the ice inside had turned into water. Kyle took the pack of pees off from his head and placed it on the coffee table.

'I didn't know anything…' Gregory took his palm off his eyes from hearing Kyle voice for the first time since he came back. 'I just— didn't want to be left out. All alone, worthless.'

'You aren't worthless Kyle,' Gregory said with exasperation. 'You just can't see that can you?'

Kyle felt the most regret and remorse as he listened to Gregory. He didn't know anything, but worse than that, he couldn't see anything. If he had tried he could have seen how weak he was compared to Christophe, how childish he was compared to Gregory, and how ignorant he was compared to the both of them. Ignorance that he now knew and didn't set off to find out.

'Do you know what I saw today Gregory?'

Gregory frowned.

'You saw Christophe kill someone.'

'Have you ever seen him do it?'

The frustration flowed away from Gregory's expression as he began to listen more carefully to Kyle's words.

'No.'

Kyle nodded and turned silent again.

'Listen Kyle. Me and Christophe, we both have something in common that we don't have to you, and you already know it. You, and any sane average person today, would think what we are doing is completely criminal and would make our parents suicidally disappointed, well, the one left at least. But we are both doing what we think is right, even if that isn't what the modern day person would agree on.'

'How are you not doing it for the money, or because you enjoy it?'

Gregory smirked at Kyle's challenging words.

'I'm the one who chose this dump of an apartment and not because of financial necessity. And as for your second suggestion.' Gregory 's expression dropped. 'Does he look like he enjoys it?'

Kyle looked down and blinked as Christophe's image crossed his mind. The way he almost killed Derek, the way he talked about death, and the way he killed White.

'No.' Kyle answered. 'He doesn't look like he feels anything.'

The next time Kyle looked up, there was a slight shadow of desperateness and fear, but with determination that made Gregory feel taken aback.

'I'll do it from now on.'

'What?'

'I'll work in Chris' stead.' He stood up to emphasise his determination. But Gregory didn't look impressed at all by his words.

'You will kill instead of Christophe?'

'That's right. Just make sure they deserve it like Brian White did today.'

'I don't understand what you mean by "deserve", but if you mean "sick bastards" then that's how we work anyway.' His frown was tight. 'But no.'

'Why not?'

'Why not? Why not, are you fucking serious, Kyle? What would make you think that I would let you do that? You would get yourself killed or sent to a mental asylum or both!'

'Gregory, I just saw my best friend kill someone saving my life! And I am fine!' Gregory shut his mouth as Kyle's strong voice and stared. The redhead looked down and his voice dropped with it. 'Somehow, when I was small I never thought that death was a foreign matter to me. I mean, I almost died once, or twice, from sickness but that's not it. It's more like— I've had a person dear to me die almost every week, although I've never had a close friend die or anything. It just— felt that way for some reason. Like when I was in elementary, death was something more close and common.'

'Well… if that was true than it means that we all have something in common.' Gregory said softly. Kyle looked up.

'Even if you don't let me, I'll do it anyway. I'll do it and I'll try to do it before Chris could do it before me. That would make me so reckless that I'd either get myself killed or caught.' Gregory knew he meant it. His eyes just didn't seem to bend.

'Fine…' Gregory said after a long silence. 'I won't give Christophe any more jobs of assassinations.'

'You promise?' Kyle's eyes widened. Gregory nodded.

'I promise.'

Kyle felt himself breathe a little easier, but he didn't smile. Gregory didn't either. He felt a sense of pity and despair deep in his heart.

.

When Kyle returned to his bedroom the lights were turned off, but he could see Christophe sitting on his bed waiting for him with the blue light of the moon and orange light of the streetlights leaking in from the window.

'Were you listening?' Kyle asked. Christophe nodded. With that simple gesture Kyle felt as if a tight string holding his heart had snapped in half and drew away. He felt himself shake, and then tears came flowing from his eyes quietly. He didn't say anything or even sob, but suddenly collapsed from his knees down. Christophe caught him before he could hit the ground, and gently held him on the bed. Kyle couldn't feel any strength. He couldn't even feel embarrassed for the tears that kept on flowing down his cheeks.

He shuddered when he felt warmth on his face, but he didn't open his eyes. He knew it was only Christophe wiping his tears away from the way he hushed him so gently. But even so he couldn't stop crying. He leaned away slightly, feeling remorseful that Christophe was trying to wipe away the tears that wouldn't stop, but was pulled back softly by the palms wrapped around his face, and then he could finally open his eyes again.

Kyle thought that for a second his tears had stopped because he could see so clearly, but then he could feel the same tickling on his cheek. He was staring into Christophe's hazel-green eyes that were searching into his.

'Your eyes are olive colour—' Kyle murmured, and then chuckled weakly. 'Like what they call your skin. Olive, the symbolism of life, resilience and peace…'

Kyle could finally smile. It didn't show on his lips, but his eyes adopted a little of the moonlight that was shining through his window. Christophe found himself lost as he looked into them and listened to Kyle's words, and he couldn't help but bring their lips together. They lingered on without moving, but for long until Christophe finally drew away when his mind took over his body.

'You told me to remind you to stop me the next time I did that,' he said, looking away from Kyle face. Kyle's face was blank, but his tears had now finally stopped. His hand moved up to Christophe's cheek and tilted his face up to see his eyes.

'Don't stop.'

Christophe's eyes widened, forgetting to shut as Kyle linked their lips again. When he did finally close his eyes he drew Kyle down onto the bed to kiss more deeply, and Kyle didn't protest. He welcomed Christophe whole. He welcomed his skin and breath, his eyes and hands. He welcomed the pain and the heat and welcomed whatever feeling they made together. It hurt as Christophe entered him but he knew that it didn't hurt as much as it could have. He was glad that he was finally touching somebody, and having somebody touch him to his will and not against it. He felt embarrassed but pleased with the noises Christophe made him say. He was pleased. It could have been worse.

When they finished Kyle was amazed by how much breath he was trying to regain and how much heat he was trying to lose. When he slowly came back he came back to Christophe's eyes— his olive eyes. They were smiling and Kyle knew he was too. He knew that he would fall asleep naked in only a few moments, and when he woke up he would wake up also naked, and as a completely different person. Life would never be the same again, not while he had lost both his ignorance and innocence. But if it only took that much to keep Christophe from killing again, keep him from being so close to death, then, he would be happy to kill himself and become anew. He would be glad for self-immolation.

'So this is how it begins for me… Hey Christophe? There was always something I wanted to ask, that I was always afraid of asking. I was afraid that, if I asked you, then something would definitely change in our relationship, the same with Gregory too. But what does that matter now? When _everything_ is about to change? I wanted to ask about your time before America. How did this all begin for you?'

Christophe had his eyes shut, but he felt and listened to every detail from Kyle. As Kyle lied there with Christophe on the edge of the cliff, somehow even as his old life was about to end, he didn't feel regret or remorse, or even fear as he listened to Christophe's story of himself and Gregory, no matter how dreadful it was in his soft voice. He only felt warmth, like a baby in a womb waiting to be born.

* * *

**A.N- The end. I actually have a whole story behind Christophe and Gregory but I feel like I missed my chance to tell it here. But that's fine. **

**Thank you for reading!**

**And thank you for reviewing Alice, S.J, kyle brovfloski and Guest! **

**And now, good bye!**


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